


You give me wings

by Quoyan_XI



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Universe, F/M, Fluff, I try to write angst, Queen in the North, Reunions, Season 8, Smut, Snow, Winter, Winterfell, and some more smut, did I mention petyr is alive?, got s8, mild violence, petyr lives, some drama, winter is here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:39:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quoyan_XI/pseuds/Quoyan_XI
Summary: Sansa Stark has accepted Lord Baelish apologies, but would it be enough? This story is set in Winterfell, right after the S7 finale. Petyr Baelish lives, but the mockingbird is trapped in a house full of wolves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After watching the first episode of season 8 a little plot came to my mind. 
> 
> This is basically my first take on canon and my first try in writing what would have happened if Petyr didn't die in the S7 finale.

                                                        

 

“Come back to bed.”

But she couldn’t stop staring. The foreign army approaching the Winterfell doors unannounced demanded her attention. Anger rose within her. It wasn’t fair. Did Jon expect her to go with his plan? He hadn’t only betrayed the people of the north. He had betrayed the trust of his own family.

I could be queen right now. She thought.

The mattress creaked and soft footsteps padded against the stone floor. She felt a soft flutter in her belly when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, molding his body with her slender frame. It was odd how Sansa had gotten used to his presence. His touch. His warmth.

“The King in the North has returned.” The hint of mockery in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

Sansa rose her eyebrow. “You sound excited.”

Lord Baelish let out a raspy chuckle and pressed his body to hers. “Believe me, I am.” Sansa felt his aching bulge stroking her bum. A mischievous smirk rose from her lips. Ever since they started this small affair their nights had become restless.

Taking charge of Winterfell was an arduous task. The recent arrival of people from all around the kingdom had compelled Sansa to take some difficult decisions. She rationed food, some houses were demolished because the families inside couldn’t stay there anymore and the wood could be used as fuel for the fires. Winter had come and everyone counted on her to keep them safe after Jon’s sudden departure.

Luckily Lord Baelish had been there to help her.

“Petyr.” Her lover kept bucking his hips. One of his hands had traveled down her body and was now playing with her folds. Sansa cocked her head allowing his lips to assault her neck. She wondered what her parents would think of her now. The former master of coin, the last man the honorable Ned and Catelyn Stark would have wanted for Sansa, had two fingers deep inside their daughter’s body. And she loved it.

“Say my name sweetling.” He whispered in her ear.

Sansa’s breath hitched. Her fingers threaded through his dark hair, tugging it tighter when she felt the first jolts of ecstasy coursing through her body. She regretted opening the windows to let the stuffy room ventilate. Her moans will surely catch the attention of some passersby if it hadn’t already done that.

What would her subjects think of her? Would they pity her? The northern lords already showed their disappointment in her every day. It wasn’t different from King’s Landing, but this time she had the power, and things were improving in Winterfell with her in charge despite the northern lords’ wishes.

They were waiting like vultures to see her fail, but Sansa wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Petyr had made sure.

Sansa turned around in his embrace. Her chest heaved up and down. Petyr leaned forward catching her lips in a fervent kiss. Her mind went numb as fast as her desire ignited. He was hard against her belly, letting her know how much he wanted her. Now she had given him a taste Petyr would not let go.

“You’re mine, my only queen. The true queen.” Their bodies tumbled onto the bed. Petyr slid into her eliciting a moan from her mouth. He kissed her roughly and took a sharp breath at the feeling of her walls gripping him. “Oh, Sansa.”

Her name of his lips sounded so sweet. Sansa pulled herself up making eye contact with the grey-eyed man. She moved her hips creating a rhythm. Petyr rested his forehead against hers, his hand cupping her cheek.

She couldn’t describe it, but there were moments when lust wasn’t enough to explain what she felt for him. At first, she wanted an escape. An escape from Ramsay and her past. She was reluctant to accept Lord Baelish’s apology. The hell she had gone through because of him was hard to forget and Sansa blamed herself for not ending his life when Arya came telling her the news about Lord Baelish’s betrayal to her father. For some reason, she already knew about it.

She wasn’t naïve. Her father had worn his suit of honor as an armor, and the weight of it had been his downfall like many others. He had been a piece on her lover’s chess game and she hated him for it. She hated herself for forgiving him. She hated herself for feeling more than lust for him.

Life is not a song, sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow.

She laid on her back now. Petyr’s hips thrust into her eliciting rogue moans from her mouth. “Don’t hold back sweetling.” His left hand left her nipple and traveled downwards. “I love listening to you. You should see yourself. You’re so beautiful Sansa, a red northern goddess.”

Petyr picked up the pace, his face contracting in pleasure. Sansa was close, she could feel it. The mattress creaked with their movement. Their grunts and moans invaded the room. Sansa opened her eyes and gazed up the man over her. She only saw complete devotion to her in him. The intensity emanating from his eyes flooded her bringing her to her peak. His eager kisses brought her back from the clouds. Sansa was so drowned at the moment's pleasure she didn’t even notice she was smiling.

“Are you happy my queen?”

Oh, she hated him. That smug smile gracing his lips infuriated her. She felt weak and powerful whenever he was around. She was never in control and something told her she will never be.

The redhead wrapped her arms around him sharing another deep kiss with him. His beard tickled her cheek when she brought his head into the crook of her neck. The feel of his weight over her was different. It felt familiar and Sansa didn’t know how much she enjoyed the closeness until he pulled her closer to him. Limbs tangled together, hearts beating in silence.

“I’m happy.” She finally said after some time.

The sound from the marching army outside became louder. The Dothraki had entered inside the Winterfell walls and the people needed their rightful queen. Petyr laid a kiss on her crown sensing her agitated thoughts. His fingers twirled one of her rogue auburn locks. His fascination with her hair stilled puzzled her sometimes. She used to think she was only a ghost from the past for him, a replacement for the life he never had. But she was wrong.

“I’m afraid other pressing matters are asking for your attention my lady.”

“I know.”

A roar rumbled through the sky. Terrified cries invaded the streets. So it was true, Jon had convinced the Dragon Queen for their cause and she had dragons. Petyr jolted from the bed and approached the window.

She followed him and for a moment, she thought she saw fear cross his eyes. Petyr was quick to mask his feelings, but she could read him like a book. Something worried him. Her lover looked in her direction. Sansa felt a chill run down her spine. She tightened the fur over her body and walked up to him.

There they were, broad-scaled wings flew over the winter sky signaling the new army arrival. Sansa had heard the legends and the myths behind the Targaryen lore and she found that somehow she wasn’t afraid. After everything she had gone through she had nothing to lose. A feeling of remorse came over her when she felt Petyr’s arms wrapped around her.

“I had my doubts about her, but... I guess I was wrong.” Sansa could feel his wheels turning inside his head. How can someone outmaneuver a dragon? She turned around, and it surprised her to see the bewilderment on his face.

The war for the dawn was about to begin and winter was here to stay.

______________________

 

The lady of Winterfell received the newcomers in the throne room. Where mere weeks ago Lyanna Mormont cheered for Jon Snow to become the new king in the north. The little girl was now standing up and questioning aloud if he deserved to be called by that name. Jon had bent the knee to an outsider, to a Targaryen. And the north remembers. Petyr smirked. It was curious the way the northerners memory worked.

The so-called King in the North proclaimed that everything he did was for the good of the north. The army of the dead had breached the Wall, and they were marching south to Winterfell.

“Yes, I bent the knee. But I did it for the north because the only way we have to survive this threat is with Daenerys dragons.”

The Dragon Queen sat next to Jon. Her proud posture rose above the room. The silver hair was the first thing that caught his eye. Petyr had been reluctant to admit the rumors, but they were true. The last Targaryen was alive and our valiant King in the North had brought her with him. Jon looked bewitched by her. They sat close together, sharing whispers with one another, and how could he not? Petyr had fallen under the spell of a beautiful woman too.

But then a voice rose from the turmoil. A deep dark beard covered most of his face, but he could have recognized him anywhere. Tyrion Lannister, better known as “the Imp” stood up from his seat and walked up to the dais.

“If anyone survives the wars to come, he’ll have Jon Snow to thank. He has risked his life to show us the threat is real, and he has brought the biggest army the north has ever seen and two full-grown dragons. Soon the Lannister army will ride north to join our cause.”

Petyr’s eyes settled on Sansa. Her skeptic’s face reflected his thoughts. Cersei did nothing out of the goodness of her heart.

“May I ask how are we supposed to maintain the greatest army the world has ever seen?” The redhead asked with insight. Like him, she seemed like the only person to notice the actual short-term problems presented in the current situation. What did Daenerys want from the north? What did dragons eat? The white-haired girl huffed at that last question.

“Whatever they want.”

Loud whispers invaded the room. Daenerys might have had the last word this time, but he could see the mistake in her retort. Northerners dislike foreigners, he had lived that reality in his own flesh. And now the Targaryen girl had indirectly admitted that her dragons’ diet included human flesh if they deem it appropriate.

Sansa looked at him across the room. The worry in her eyes constricted something inside his chest. He wanted nothing more than to take her away from Winterfell and escape south, they still had time.

______________________

 

“People keep coming to Winterfell from every corner of the north and my brother expects us to feed and give shelter to all of them.” Her eyes scanned the patio from the balcony. Wagons with dragonglass had arrived and several people were helping to discharge them to bring the precious material to the forge.

“I want the best for my people but it infuriates me the selfish way Jon thinks sometimes.”

“I’ll send a raven to the Vale and ask for more grain. The lords owe me after all the stockpiles I’ve gathered during the summer.” He had already brought provisions when he came to their aid during the battle of the bastards, he could do it again. He’ll do anything in his power. Anything for her.

Sansa turned her body to him. His gloved hand landed on her shoulder and traveled up and down her arm. She was ashamed to admit it, but she craved his contact more every day. His presence in the throne room had made her feel more confident, and his joy at seeing her act as the Queen in the north flashed images of their previous encounter in her quarters across her mind.

“Send the raven, we need all the help we can get.” She interlaced their fingers together, his thumbs rubbing circled over her leather gloves. It wasn’t even noon and the sudden parade of reunions had already exhausted her. There were so many things to do, so many things to prepare for the imminent war.

His eyes studied her, but she couldn’t get her head to look at him. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning whenever he was close, and the fake distance they had to maintain was unbearable. She envied the way Petyr’s mind worked. He was always focused, planning things five steps ahead, with a witty retort or a clever answer waiting to be said.

“We could get away, you know.”

Sansa stayed silent. His palm cupped her cheek, and she allowed it. They stood outside where everyone in Winterfell could see them.

“I could arrange a carriage and horses and we’d be out of the north in less than two days. I know people in Braavos, we could be safe across the sea where the dead can’t reach us.” Sansa could tell he had been giving a lot of thought to this.

“But this is my home. I have sacrificed everything for it, I can’t leave it now and you know this.” Petyr closed his eyes. The tinge of bitterness in her words pained him.

“I can protect myself. I’m not alone. Jon brought an army and Brienne never lets me go alone. She’s very mad about you, you know?” That caused Petyr to smirk. The lady knight had knocked on Sansa’s door this morning to let her know about Jon arrival’s. Her face of bewilderment at watching Petyr answer the door with his clothes askew and his hair disheveled had been memorable.

“Does it bother you?” Deep sapphire eyes stared up at him. “That they know about us.”

Sansa looked around the patio. She saw several heads turned pretending nothing had happened. Deep down she pitied them. Her stained reputation, her two marriages, it all meant nothing. Her family had been her only priority. But Bran was safe, Arya came back and now Jon was home.

“I thought I cared but I don’t.” Her fingers played with the silver mockingbird perched on the collar of his fur coat. Petyr‘s lips curved warmly. Their heads were close, his first instinct told him to close the distance, to embrace her, but he refrained.

Heavy footsteps rumbled through the wooden floor. The newcomer cleared his throat announcing his arrival. “My lord. My lady.”

The last time Sansa had seen Tyrion Lannister was at Joffrey’s wedding. They had been husband and wife then, but Petyr had taken her away from the capital before the Lannister caught her for Joffrey’s murder. Petyr narrowed his eyes. He was reluctant to leave Sansa alone with Tyrion; they were still technically husband and wife.

Sansa squeezed his hand. She was asking, but he knew it was a command. She was the lady of Winterfell. Diplomacy was just another mask she had gotten used to wearing. Petyr smirked and brought her gloved hand to his lips. “As you command my lady.” And with a flip of his coat, he left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Some masks weight more than others._

                                              

 

Black wings flapped across the grey sky. The impressive winter scenery beneath the highest tower in Winterfell extended in front of him. The Dothraki and Unsullied camped outside the Castle’s walls and several fires spread across Winterfell to procure warmth and refuge to the country folk.

One of his informants had just told him that the Dragon Queen and the King in the North had left Winterfell. _'A dragon escapade.'_ Petyr cursed under his breath. His redhead would be furious. But the less Jon rules the more Sansa does. The political balance leaned toward her side now. The people had spoken. The common folk deemed Jon unfit as their ruler, proclaiming Sansa the true Queen in the North and heir of the honorable Ned Stark. Fear of the new army’s arrival had hushed them up, but the mumbling continued and the wind can change as fast as it flies.

Maybe it was a good thing. What would he do when the dead marched toward Winterfell? Petyr wasn’t a fighter. He had sent two ravens. One with the message Sansa had ordered him, and the other for an old friend that owed him a favor. His gloved hands gripped the stone rail making snowfall from the tower.

He only wished he had done it earlier.

“I wasn’t expecting to find you this far north.” Petyr recognized the voice, so it wasn’t a surprise when he turned around and found himself face to face with the former Master of Whisperers.

“Lord Varys. I never thought I’d see your bald face again.”

A strong wind rose at the top of the tower. Varys startled and covered his face. “You won’t see it if we keep being outside my lord.”

Lord Baelish motioned his head, and both men walked inside. Petyr mentally checked if his hidden dagger was still beneath his cloak. He had become reckless and the arrival of so many old faces to the northern capital had made him take extra precautions.

He might have considered Varys a friend a long time ago. They had a mutual understanding of some sort. Petyr felt the dagger’s sheath press against his thigh. One never feels safe enough.

Both men strolled down the tower’s corridor. Varys studied him closely. “The north looks good on you. I’m impressed.”

“Well, you look awful as usual.” Varys rolled his eyes.

“A nice to see you would have been enough.”

“Varys, you know how it pains me to lie to you. I could never do that.”

The bald man feigned being offended. “Like you haven’t done it before.”

Wagon’s of dragonglass kept coming through gates. The misery in the north folk was visible despite the food supplies he had brought from the Vale two weeks ago. It was the cold, Petyr realized. The ruthless weather tired even the sturdiest of men.

“I’ve heard the dragon queen has left Winterfell with Jon Snow. An urgent matter I presume.”

“They share a great weight of responsibility. The dead are coming.” A shiver ran down Petyr’s spine. A flash of Sansa’s smile crossed his mind. Petyr wasn’t a religious person, but if Jon and Daenerys were the last hope humanity had to survive the unthinkable, he was ready to start praying to the Seven, the old Gods and the Red God. His thoughts then traveled to one raven he had sent.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t see each other sooner. I hope you have at least heard the news that happened when you left the capital.”

Joffrey’s murder. Sansa boarding his ship after being taken away from the ceremony. The Eyrie. Lysa falling from the moon door. The snow maid’s kiss. Petyr smirked at the ground avoiding Varys’ studying eyes.

“I’ve heard something.” He said. It felt as if it were another man who had lived through those events. It didn’t matter now, anyway.

“I’ve also heard that you didn’t stay long after my departure.”

Petyr had deliberately expected Tyrion’s fate when he had spirit Sansa away. But he didn’t expect the Spider to take an interest in the small Lannister and go a long way to help him.

“I’ve also heard you don’t spend time in your quarters anymore.” His bald companion continued. Petyr didn’t dignify him with an answer and looked over the main patio, rogue snowflakes laid over his head.

“I’m only looking out for you my friend. Wolves have fangs and they’re not friendly with outsiders.”

“I could say the same thing for you, or has our new Targaryen queen forgot how many kings you’ve served? How many kings you’ve betrayed.” Varys’ smirk disappeared.

“I did what I did for the good of the realm.”

Lord Baelish rose his eyebrows. “I recall us having this exact conversation a long time ago.”

“And you haven’t changed.”

Petyr bit his tongue. _‘You’d be surprised by the things that have changed_.’

“I guess it doesn’t matter now, the dead are coming and our sharp tongues can’t compete against them.”

“For once I agree with you.” The bald man lamented interlacing his fingers inside his robe’s sleeves. “We’re on the same boat now.”

The hairs at the nape of his neck stood up alarmed. He didn’t know if it was the cold, the imminent threat of death or the fact he felt like he was losing his mind the more he stayed in this castle. Varys must have sensed something similar, because he stayed silent for a while, his eyes searching all over the big patio. There was a general commotion and two big figures descended from the clouds. Lord Baelish could have sworn the screech the black dragon emitted had been heard all across the North.

All the eyes were now set on the two supernatural beasts parading on the closest hill to the castle. People run scared, others struggled to get a better view of magnificent specimens and the riders dismounting their peculiar steed. Despite the turmoil, a figure stayed immobile.

Bran Stark regarded him from across the patio, his lifeless gaze as unnerving as the first time he had talked to the boy. Petyr might be wrong but he was almost sure the young Stark hadn’t moved since the last time he had seen him after leaving Sansa.

As if reading his mind, their eyes locked, and he saw darkness.

“Did the dragons scare you Lord Baelish? You’re paler than a white walker.” Petyr shot him a warning look and tried to regain his composure.

“Yeah dragons. Sure.” He said before leaving the bald man with more questions than answers.

______________________

 

Snow crunched beneath her feet. The Godswood was possibly the less crowded place in all Winterfell and she thanked the gods for it. But she didn’t come here to pay her respects.

“Bran!” Her brother stayed immobile sitting on his wheelchair. Sansa couldn’t see his face because his back faced her way, so she picked up her pace.

“Bran.”

The palm of her brother rested on the weirdwood’s bark. Sansa let out a small gasp. His eyes were white. She remembered Bran mentioning something about how he had become the “Three-Eyed Raven”, about the supernatural powers he had learned. It made little sense her little brother had returned from the dead after she had lost faith in seeing him alive. Did it really matter how he survived?

_‘I’m not your brother anymore.’_

“Bran!.” But her little brother’s body convulsed. His face constricted and a pained moan escaped his mouth. Sansa hurried and grabbed his shoulders trying to stop him from shaking. She cried for help, but the guards were too far, sheltered inside the castle’s walls.

“Sansa!” One of Bran’s hands gripped her arm. His chest heaved trying to regain his composure.

“Bran, what happened? Are you okay?”

The young man shook his head. “There’s no time, you don’t understand!” His eyes had turned brown again, but their gaze looked distant.

Sansa released him, startled at his sudden burst. She knew Bran had changed, but a part of her saddened at seeing the truth. ‘We’ve all changed.’ Warg, Three-Eyed Raven, Faceless assassin. There was a different label for each of the Winterfell children.

_‘But, who am I?’_

“I saw them again. They’re close.” The redhead's eyes widened.

“You saw the white walkers? But Bran, the last time you did..”

“I know.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Sansa mind was spinning. Jon needed to know. He was the only one who knew how to fight them. The dragons, Daenerys, the dragonglass. The floor seemed to move beneath her feet and she felt enjoy vomiting.

“Jon needs to know.” She said.

“Jon must know the truth first.” Sansa looked at him confused. “He’s not our brother.”

“What?”

“He’s the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Father lied to protect him from Robert Baratheon. He kept a promise to her sister, and he fulfilled it. Targaryen blood flows through his veins. There are two dragons, it’s the only way, the only hope we have.”

Sansa took a step backward her back hitting the weirdwood’s trunk. “Bran we need to go inside, I’m afraid you’re not feeling well after spending time outside in the freezing cold.”

“He has to know Sansa. It’s the only way.”

An unnatural screech pierced the sky. Both of Daenerys dragons glided over Winterfell until descending on the hill closest to the castle. A shiver ran down her spine, but not because of the beasts. Her mind kept pondering Bran’s words. what if they were true? Why would Bran lie to her about this?

“Sansa you need to go.”

“I’m not leaving you here Bran, I’ll bring you inside and lit up a fire in your quarters. You need to rest.” The redhead stepped behind her brother’s wheelchair to carry the young man inside.

She took a while because of the force of the snowstorm falling around them, but the Stark siblings arrived under the castle’s shelter. Sansa saw a familiar silhouette walking toward them. His quick gait worried her, but when their gazes crossed, it looked as if the agitated thoughts going through his mind disappeared.

A small smile formed on her lips mirroring his. Suddenly the surrounding turmoil seemed to slow down. Sansa averted her gaze trying to refrain the blush spreading through her cheeks. She failed.

Bran’s solemn face turned around for the first time since the stopped talking in the Godswood. “Leave Sansa.”

“You have to leave Winterfell.”  

______________________

Sansa closed the heavy wooden door. Winterfell seemed to fight with the strong wind outside whistling through the thin cracks embedded in the stone walls. The constant battle against the elements made the castle more alive than ever. The Vale army, the Dothraki, the houses of the North, the Unsullied, everyone had gathered among the walls of one of the most honorable houses of Westeros. To fight for survival they said. To fight for the living.

Petyr closed his eyes. He didn’t belong here. He never wanted to fight.

Soft arms wrapped around him from behind, were they even real? Warm lips laid over his cheek and he felt a familiar warmth spread through him. Petyr moved to the side letting the body over his back took a seat next to him. They both sat on the fur rug staring at the fire in peaceful silence, Sansa’s head resting on his shoulder. “What are you thinking my love?”

“Was this your plan?”

The man with ash on his temples turned his head on her direction. Dark blue eyes studied him. “When we left the Eyrie, was this your plan?”

A cold rift suddenly pierced the small space between them. Her harsh words rumbled through his mind. _‘If you didn’t know about Ramsay, you’re a fool. If you did, you’re my enemy.’_ Lord Baelish gulped.

“No.”

Sansa looked down. Their hands were only a few inches away from each other. He itched to reach for her, to make her understand. But he couldn’t do it that way, she had taught him the way.

“I wanted you to take back Winterfell, but not the way you did. I wanted to be by your side every step of the way and I wasn’t.”

Sansa’s hand wrapped around his wrist and turned his palm facing upward. Petyr’s heart beat faster against his chest and he was sure she could hear it. His little red wolf. Not so little anymore.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

One of her fingers slid across his palm painting random patterns. A slight itch tickled his palm, but he refrained from taking his gaze away from her. If he did, he would lose.

“I do, but do you?”

Her eyes looked straight up to his soul now. The tumbling flickers from the hearth reflected on them, shining like the moon. Her test unnerved him because it was a test, that was clear. Petyr cleared his throat and close his palm over her slender fingers.

“I wanted everything. I wanted money, and I got it. I wanted power, and I got it. I wanted ships, and I got dozens. I wanted beauty.” It was Sansa’s turn to gulp now, their bodies shifted closer, so close he could feel the changes in her breathing.

He left his phrase unfinished, a dissonant melody waiting to be fixed. “But then I wanted to be myself and I didn’t know how.”

“I’m not a good man.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

Petyr smirked, “but they aren’t good either. All the good men are dead.”

“That’s not true.”

And then her lips were on his. She swallowed his sighs with a new passion he had never experienced from her before. Her hands weaved through his hair mixing the dark with the grey. Petyr’s hands arrested on her waist pressing her body his.

His ear, his neck, collarbone, her lips traveled insatiably through his body until the last button of his doublet was undone and she could feel his skin. The scar always seemed to get a reaction out of her. Her eyes would sometimes study it from navel to collarbone, other times she would touch the cracked silver course, other times she would kiss it.

But her palm caressed his cheek, and her nose nuzzled his own before leaving a soft peck on his lips. Sansa’s body rose straddling his hips, her hand going behind her back to unlace her dress.

“Help me.”

His hands were quickly on her. Soon her woolen dress laid on the floor with the rest of her garments and his breeches. They hadn’t even had time to move to the bed and he prayed for his back not to complain later.

“Oh.”

She was tight around her. Petyr cursed under his breath when her hips moved, his fingers clinging to her waist. They kissed fervently until the rhythm was too much to bear. It was almost animalistic, as if they had been holding out something inside for a long time. Sansa raised her head letting out a moan. He wanted to hear that same sound a hundred times more.

“Fuck Sansa.” Her hips took him deeper with every thrust. “Fuck,” he grunted bucking at the same time she did. Her walls clamped around him and he swore he would never forget the cry of ecstasy that left her lips, sweet soft lips he kissed and kissed until he laid her back over the fur rug and thrust again. His member pulsed inside her and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Swift fingers traveled through his hair and then he saw red. Sansa hummed against his lips and he felt alive again here in Winterfell. His face nestled between the valley of the Lady of Winterfell’s breast, listening to her heart thundering beneath her ribs.

Petyr raised his head, and he wanted to say them, to say the words that constantly run through his mind every time she looked at him. He fucking wanted to. But the moment passed. She kissed his sweaty brow and brought the back of her hand tenderly over his cheek.

“You’re my good man.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 2!
> 
> It's late and I have class tomorrow and I couldn't leave this chapter unfinished, especially the last scene :) I'm going to bed now, I hoped you liked it. 
> 
> Tumblr: @quoyan11
> 
> PS: I loved 8x02


	3. Chapter 3

                                                      

 

They walked the halls hand in hand. The guards and servants who passed them gave them sidelong glances before returning to their tasks mumbling. Sansa squared her shoulders. Let them talk and wonder all they want. Her eyes then wandered to the man beside her.

“You like what you see my lady?” The redhead curled her arm around his supporting her weight on him.

“I do.” She said.

His low chuckle rumbled through his chest and he pulled her body closer. His doublet looked immaculate, the rings of his fingers in place. It almost looked as if their tryst in her rooms didn't happen.

“Wait, before we go in...” Sansa stepped in front of him. Petyr’s eyes asked her what she was doing and relaxed when he felt her hands smooth down his mussed hair.

“There, that’s better.” She rested her hands on his chest and took in his neat appearance. His warm eyes studied her amused,

“Thank you, my lady.”

It felt wrong to be happy in such circumstances, the dead were marching toward Winterfell and could arrive at the gates at any moment now.  But Jon had a plan, didn’t he? The King in the North had called all to the throne room for a meeting.

“I have to go now, the North needs me.”

“And how lucky they are.” There was a glimpse on his eyes he didn’t recognize, but she let it go for now. The lady of the north took a deep breath and prepared mentally for the imminent meeting. Petyr watched her, his mind whirring about the recent development of events.

“Do you think she knows about Jon?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She answered truthfully. The news about her ‘half-brother’s’ parentage had been shocking at first.

“We have to be careful, I have a bad feeling about this.” Sansa nodded.

“I talked with Lord Royce about the food supplies.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “Did you really talk to him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m Lord Protector of the Vale while your cousin is alive, whether Royce likes it or not, he has to deal with me. I don’t enjoy my conversations with him as much as I do with you though.”

“He doesn’t like you very much.”

“No,” Petyr agreed, “I know what he says behind my back, they are the same whispers I’ve heard most of my life.”

“Do I need to worry?”

Petyr’s mouth curled. “Don’t worry sweetling, Lothor is aware and I have a few eyes watching his every move.”

Someone cleared his throat behind them. “King Jon is waiting for you, my lady.”

“Thank you Ser Davos.” The Onion knight nodded his eyes flickering to Petyr and their joined hands before leaving them.

“You have to go.”

“I know,” she said and leaned forward laying a soft kiss on his lips. It caught him by surprise but he was quick to reciprocate it. Petyr inhaled her soft scent one last time before letting her go. Her straight figure strode through the wide hall like the true queen she was, leaving a trail of awed stares behind her, including his.

Burly men from the north filled the room, more shabby than others. Petyr grimaced. The stench of so many people together reminded him of Flea Bottom.

_‘If only it were sunnier.’_

His stare returned to the dais. Sansa had sat down and she chatted with Brienne of Tarth. A strange sense of relief came over him thinking how the lady knight had pledged her life to protect his lover.

Petyr moved to stand next to one side of the room. His man Lothor acknowledge him with a short bow of his head and took his place beside him. He glimpsed Varys’ bald head across the room next to Daenerys advisors.

_‘I have to keep an eye on him too.’_

Sansa whispered something quickly to Jon before redirecting her attention to her brother Bran. The King in the North furrowed his brow. Petyr wondered what could have Sansa have said into her “half-brother’s” ear but his train of thought stopped when he felt Snow’s eyes on him. A tingling sensation ran through Lord Baelish’s neck remembering the last conversation they had down on the crypts, but a strong noise averted his attention.

Daenerys stood up from her throne and commanded the guards to bring someone in. The room fell silent when Jaime Lannister stepped inside. He didn’t look like the golden knight he remembered from the capital. Tyrion took a step forward but Daenerys shot him a look in warning.

The golden lion walked proudly into the center of the room, his stare was defiant but cautious. His full worn clothes could have perfectly mistaken him for any other soldier.

“When I was a child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story,” the dragon queen began, “about the man that murdered our father.”

  
___________________________

“It’s fine Lothor, I can go from here.”

His trusted guard nodded and left giving a sign to the other guards. Lord Baelish’s mind was spinning. Cersei’s army marched from the south to King’s Landing and not exactly to help the north. The Lannister woman had allied with the Greyjoy and hired the Golden Company from across the narrow sea. Petyr added the numbers on his mind and couldn’t conclude how Cersei had done it after the state Lord Baelish had left the treasury of the kingdom.

 _‘The people must be starving.’_ He realized. It seemed death was coming for all of Westeros, one way or another.

He turned around the corner to the and stopped. A silhouette he knew was waiting for him at the end of the corridor next to his solar’s door.

“Your grace.” He said carefully. The young brooding man walked toward him.

“Littlefinger.” Petyr’s lip twitched at the mention of his nickname. If the boy wanted to get a reaction from him, he wouldn’t get it.

“Lady Sansa has told me you sent a raven asking for more food supplies to the Vale.”

“I did your grace.” Petyr checked mentally if he still had his dagger. Jon Snow had come back for the grave but Petyr knew there would not be a red priest for him when he stepped into the world of the dead.

The wolf stood in front of him now. His broad shoulders made him look bigger but Petyr was slightly taller than him. “I wanted to thank you.”

“You honor me your grace-” Jon’s hands suddenly grabbed Lord Baelish by his cloak’s collar and slammed him to the wall. Petyr struggled and tried to get rid of the hand relentlessly clutching his neck. He kicked Jon’s knee only getting a loud groan from him.

“I warned you not to go anywhere near Sansa.”

Petyr fought for air, “your grace, I assure you she was the one who approached me. Several times.” He saw the exact color gradation from white to red his face got when he uttered those words.

“I should kill you, you know. But every live counts, even yours.” He scorned before releasing him.

Petyr brought his hands to his neck gasping for air. He coughed twice, tasting blood. The fickle oxygen struggling to get into his lungs hurt his tender throat. Anger rose from his chest, images from his past duel flashing through his mind. ‘ _Not again._ ’

Petyr rose to his feet. His hand itched to the dagger beneath his robe. It seemed so simple. Jon had his back turned. He remembered ambushing Ned Stark from behind. It felt like a lifetime ago.

A voice sounded across through the hall. “Jon stop!” and Petyr felt it was directed for him too.

Sansa ran toward them, Brienne followed her. “What are you doing?”

“Sansa I can’t let you-”

“What I do is none of your business Jon!” Sansa brought her hands to Petyr’s face, “are you okay?” She whispered.

The man nodded and tried to speak, but he only uttered a raspy noise.

“Sansa I demand you to stop this nonsense, he betrayed father, how can you defend him?”

“Stop talking about things you know nothing about Jon.” The redhead retorted. “Father doomed himself, I know it pains you to listen to the truth and yes, Petyr was there when Joffrey demanded his head but I was too, and I had to live with it.”

“I don’t trust him.” He said.

“He helped me rebuild the north and rule Winterfell when you left your people behind.” She retorted helping her lover stand up.

The King clenched his teeth. “I did what I did for us to survive what’s coming and I don’t regret it.”

“I’ll change my mind if we win.” She stated.

Sansa helped him stood up. Lord Baelish assured her she was fine, but she still urged him to go see maester Tarly. Jon Snow clenched his fists and took his usual brood expression.

“Your grace,” Petyr uttered with a raspy voice before walking away from the dim-lit corridor.

___________________________

 

“Your throat’s just a little swollen, but it’ll heal fine.” Concluded maester Tarly. “You can close your mouth now Lord Baelish.”

Petyr’s right hand moved to his neck. His mouth felt sore and clogged when he tried to move his jaw. Maester Tarly stood up from his sit and stored his medicine chest in the top drawer of his cabinet.

“Thank you.”

“Jon can be very impulsive sometimes, but he’s a good man.”

“Just like his father.”

Tarly stood still for a couple of seconds until his mouth curved showing a nervous smile. “Just like him.”

Petyr looked around Tarly’s solar. The room had been filled with three rows of shelves all containing several volumes brought straight from Winterfell’s library. A large history book peeked from the desk.

“I’m afraid I’ve never read that one.” Lord Baelish explained when the maester followed his stare.

“It’s a very rare copy. I stole it right from the Citadel’s library.” Petyr rose his eyebrow inadvertently seeing the young maester under a new light. He never took him for a thief.

Tarly shrugged. “I thought it would give us some answers about the white walkers.”

“Did it?”

The maester brushed his fingers along the book’s leathered spine. “No. Dragonglass and Valyrian steel are the only materials they’ve proven to be vulnerable.”

“And dragon fire,” Petyr added.

The tinge of sarcasm in Lord Baelish voice seemed to amuse the young maester. “I said materials, is fire even a material?”

Petyr smirked. “Is nice to find someone with a smart sense of humor.”

“Jon told me you were clever. He also mentioned not to trust you.”

“I saved him from certain death in the Battle of the Bastards, the Starks recovered Winterfell thanks to the Knights of the Vale and now I’m the only reliable source of food the North has.” Petyr pointed his index fingers to his swollen neck. “And this is how he repays me.”

“The nature of your relationship with his sister has caught his attention. He’s not sure of your intentions my lord.”

“I thought I stated them clearly.” Petyr said in a straight face, his heart beating loud against his chest.

“Excuse me Lord Baelish, I don’t know exactly which are the King’s reasons but I’m sure of one. He doesn’t want his sister to suffer anymore, especially from a man almost twice her age.”

“I’ll never hurt her.” The maester raised his eyebrows. “I care deeply about her.”

“Are you going to marry her? When all of this war is over?” The question took him by surprise. He had entertained the idea but pressuring Sansa into another commitment, especially now after what Ramsay did to her, _‘what I did to her,_ ’ felt wrong.

“I don’t think our King would approve.”

“But, did you ask Lady Sansa?”

The silence that fell over him answered the maester’s question. Petyr stood up not wanting to continue this conversation. He moved to the door, his cloak swinging slightly behind him.

“Thank you for your helping me maester Tarly.”

“Lord Baelish.”

Petyr turned the doorknob and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

                                                      

 

The war council ended as soon as Daenerys walked out of the large room. Jon followed her out not before looking in the redhead's direction. Sansa ignored him. She knew Jon always tried to do the right thing, the news about the dead marching toward Winterfell had spread like wildfire and not for the first time Sansa felt as if the end of the world was approaching.

_‘Winter is coming.’_

The rest of the council stayed behind discussing the war strategies. Bran stayed sat on the side lost in thought, Theon by his side. Sansa felt her chest tighten. Seeing Theon after all this time had brought tears to her eyes. He could have sailed far away to a safe place with his sister, but he came back.

“Let me regain my honor and fight for you, my lady.”

It felt more like a goodbye than a promise.

She then remembered Bran’s words, “the Night King will come for me. I have his mark.” Using her little brother as bait wouldn’t have been her first option, but then the ironborn intervened saying he would protect him and Jon agreed.

‘He’s only a boy.’ There had to be another way, she couldn’t lose her little brother again. Arya complained about their plan, but Bran insisted. “It’s the only way.”

Petyr kept talking with Lord Royce and the Unsullied army leader. She had never imagined him as a great battle strategist, but knowing his cleverness she was sure he would have been a formidable one. Their eyes locked then, and he brought one of his hands to his neck.

Sansa smirked. She didn’t have to know exactly what words had transpired in the conversation between Jon and Lord Baelish, her half-brother’s face had been enough.

The lords kept discussing over the table when a familiar voice made her turn around. “My lady.”

“Ser Jaime.” The knight bowed his head.

“I wanted to thank you for this morning Lady Sansa.”

“I trust Brienne with my life. It was nothing. She is the one you ought to thank.” She added before dismissing the Lannister knight. He walked over the other side of the room hesitantly, as if something prevented his step. The tall woman noticed Ser Jaime and called his name. The man lifted his head, a small smile appearing on his face.

Sansa turned her back, she was about to exit the room when a soldier greeted her and announced they had already finished digging the second moat. “Is there time to dig a third one?” Davos said.

“We’ll start as soon as we gather enough wood for the trenches.”

“Make it wide.” Lord Baelish added taking a place beside her, his eyes flickering to hers in acknowledgment. “Are the knights of the Vale helping you?”

“They are my lord. They’re taking charge of building the ‘hedgehogs’ right now.”

“Good.”

“How do we know they’ll be coming?” Sansa asked. Jon had claimed the dead were a two days' march from Winterfell this morning.

“We’ll send an advance party to scout their way.” Lord Royce said.

“You might as well be sending those people to their deaths.” Sansa retorted, “and that only will make the Other’s army stronger.”

“My lady,” Brienne intervened, “it’s the only way to know where they are, is the life of many for the life of a few.”

“What happens if they don’t make it? What if they can’t warn us?"

The lords stayed silent looking at each other and then she realized the truth. There was no other plan. They had only one chance to stop the army of the dead or die trying. She thought about the rest of the kingdoms, about how Cersei lived comfortably in the Red Keep choosing to ignore the unnatural threat coming from the North and an odd thought came over her mind. If they died tomorrow, she’d take away Cersei’s crown with her dead hands.

 

________________________

 

What is death? Petyr saw it in the civilians turned soldiers training on the yard. He had encountered death many times during his life.

His father had told him several stories about his experience fighting in the war of the Ninepenny Kings, little did he know his heroic actions during the war would bring death to his son for the first time. Death in the form of Hoster Tully and Brandon Stark.

He rarely dreamt about it anymore. Cat’s pleading voice had faded away and sleep found him easier every night.

_‘What if I want you to die here and now?’_

_‘Then I’d die.’_

The sharpness in her voice still pierced his soul, even more than the truth in his own words.

What is death? Lord Baelish gaze contemplated the night’s horizon. What is death if the dead could walk among the living? If the wights were mere husks controlled by unnatural forces and the living served under their lord’s will, what made them different?

Petyr sighed, his breath floating over him in the dead of night. Logic didn’t seem to work against the threat they faced and it frustrated him. All the nerves in his body told him to escape, but he couldn’t.

“What are you doing here?”

Sansa joined him despite the strong wind hitting Winterfell’s battlements. Her body leaned on to his as soon as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He felt her mouth smile onto his coat when he bowed his head laying a kiss on her crown. The way her body felt against his made him forget all the thoughts that had troubled him through the day.

“It’s just so hard to understand.” He finally said.

“What?”

“The dead marching toward Winterfell. A cranky old man from the Fingers used to tell the younger children stories about the Great Other’s to scare them. I used to think a large spider would barge into my room during the night and eat me.” Sansa giggled.

“I’m afraid we’ll find out in a few hours if he were right.” Petyr huffed and pulled her closer until their foreheads almost touched.

He always felt as if he were living on borrowed time. Seeing Sansa now, in his arms, acting so naturally around him, gave him some kind of hope. He lifted his hand and caressed her icy cheek.

“It’s nice to hear you talk about your past.” She said.

“Really?” He asked unsurely.

“Yes, you should do it more often.”

“They don’t all end well sweetling.”

Sansa shrugged her shoulders, “They never do.” Petyr’s eyes landed on her lips, so close and yet so far. Sansa sensed his hesitation. “Let’s go inside.” She whispered on his ear after laying a tender kiss on his cheek.

________________________

 

They didn’t make it to her quarters. Petyr pinned her to the wall as soon as they stepped inside, his lips traveling immediately to the side of her neck. “Be quiet sweetling.” Sansa giggled when she felt his scruff brushed against her skin.

“This is your fault.” She accused, but her delicate hands drifted to his hair, guiding his movements through his dark locks.

Petyr groaned. “If you hadn’t been teasing me since we left the battlements this wouldn’t have happened.”

Sansa pecked his lips. “You’re talking too much, someone will hear us,” Petyr smirked. His dark half-lidded eyes looked at her with desire. Sansa tightened the hair on the nape of his neck. “You smug bastard, you’re enjoying this.”

“This may be our last night on earth Sansa. Do you really care if a maid or a northern lord stumbles onto us and sees how much you enjoy my company?” His hand drifted down her dress finding his way under her skirts.

“I’m serious Petyr.”

“And so wet.” He said pressing his fingers over her small clothes. His hands were soft and warm, and the fact that his scent was slowly intoxicating her made things more difficult.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Something ignited inside him when he heard her words. His mouth came down on hers in a fervent kiss. His deft fingers worked over her folds rigorously leaving their unsaid words forgotten. Sansa’s head was spinning, Petyr was the one in control now, setting the rhythm of their heated kiss. Oh, gods, she could spend the rest of her life only kissing him.

“Sansa.” He whispered seductively in her ear as soon as she reached her peak. She bit down her lip refraining from letting out any sound that could catch the attention of anyone passing closely by the dark corridor.

When she opened her eyes his flushed face greeted her. Petyr bent down his neck to lay a slow kiss on her lips and she quickly accepted it. The atmosphere had changed and the lust boiling her skin had decreased to a comfortable feeling in her chest. Petyr hummed in her mouth sending a small shiver down her spine. Sansa could feel him hard against her clothed belly, and she wonders how much time remained until he couldn’t hold it anymore and lifted her skirts giving in his desires.

But Petyr did nothing, he kept kissing her slowly, trying to remember every detail of her, of the way her breath hitched or the way her moans sounded. Sometimes she swore Petyr behaved like a different person around her.

He was never the ruthless, manipulative lord everyone feared with her; it had taken her a long time to understand. Something had changed. The games they had played with each other at the Vale or after they took back Winterfell felt so distant, none of it mattered.

The light reflected on his green eyes staring at her soul and she knew. She knew right there, but he said nothing. Petyr held her close now, her head resting on his chest. Flashes of Joffrey and Ramsay crossed her mind, and she immediately discarded them. _‘No, this is different.’_

Voices sounded at the end of the corridor where they stood. Sansa could identify Lothor’s voice telling the passerby he had to turn back.

“I’m not going anywhere you  empty-headed southerner.”

Sansa giggled recognizing the growling voice. She raised her head and pressed a light kiss on Petyr’s cheek thanking him for his caution in setting Lothor to guard them. “Let’s rescue him before Tormund turns your trusted knight in tinplate chunks.”

 

________________________

 

“So little lord tell me, do you know how to fight?” The big wilding asked him after gulping down a large horn of giant’s milk. Petyr refrained from grimacing when the strong smell of the beverage reached his nostrils.

He wasn’t sure how but he and Sansa had ended up at the large fireplace in the main hall of Winterfell castle where the Lannister brothers had gathered to drink. At one point Tormund, Petyr, and Sansa had stumbled with Brienne and the wilding had urged them to go inside the large hall. Sansa had chuckled at Petyr’s reaction when he had pleaded her with his eyes to leave. “Oh no, you’re staying.”

Tyrion eyed them curiously when they entered the room before taking a long drink from his cup. Petyr took a seat next to her showing how the looks the men were giving him didn’t affect him, although the only one that worried him was Lady Brienne’s, she had sworn to protect Lady Sansa, and he was sure that the tall woman would willingly volunteer to be the first one in finishing his life if Sansa wanted it.

Petyr blinked twice before answering the wilding’s question. “I know how to swing a sword, but the last time I did it almost cost me my life.”

“So you can’t fight.” Stated the wilding.

“Lord Baelish forte has always been numbers,” Lord Tyrion explained. “it always pleased King Robert when Littlefinger played his magic tricks and made golden dragons out of nowhere for him to spend.”

“To drink and whore his way to the grave.” Ser Jaime added solemnly.

Petyr shrugged. “It was my job. I found the money, and the King spent it.

“You can’t bribe the dead little lord, so what are you going to do?”

Petyr turned his head in Sansa’s direction. “I’ll fight.”

Lord Tyrion let out a sarcastic laugh, “your place is with us down by the crypts Littlefinger, you’d be a liability out there.”

“It’s nice to hear how someone concerns for my well being.”

“Quite the contrary my lord, I’m watching out for the ones who are fighting.” The imp retorted.

“Well, I guess I’ll have that drink now.” Said Davos stepping away from the fireplace and taking a seat.

“Your minds are invaluable, my lords. It’d be great if you don’t spend them on useless mockery.”

“My apologies Lady Sansa.” Said the Lannister before changing the conversation. She then felt someone brush their fingers with hers. A small smile graced her lips when she found Petyr’s eyes shining at her. “I’m sorry.” His lips said, but the smug smirk he wore told another story.

“It’s curious, all of us sitting here have fought at least once against the Starks, except for you my lady,” Tyrion added nodding on Sansa’s direction. “And here we are, in their ancestral home, fighting against the dead.”

The conversation continued but Sansa stopped listening. Tyrion’s words had made her remembered her family opening an old wound she had forgotten. The castle was not the same as the one she remembered when she marched south to the capital all those years ago. It felt empty and dark, even now when it hosted so many people at once. The soul of the Starks had vanished from their ancestral home.

“My lady are you okay?.” A soft voice called. Petyr’s hand moved to her shoulder, his eyes studied her with worry.

“I don’t feel well, I’d like to rest a little before the battle.” She announced when she felt all the eyes set on her.

“I’ll go with you Lady Sansa.”

“Thank you Lady Brienne, but we need you tonight on the battlefield, you shouldn’t waste your energies on me right now. Would you escort me to my chambers Lord Baelish?.”

“Of course my lady.”

They both raised from their seats and walked toward the door, Sansa’s arm intertwined in his. Petyr couldn’t help but turned his head to see the looks the lords’ were surely giving him. “Don’t look so smug.” The woman beside him chided.

Petyr stopped under the door’s arc and laid a kiss on her crown.

“For the love of the Gods Baelish get out of here!” Tyrion yelled.

 

________________________

 

“You’re so beautiful.”

Petyr pulled her closer until their noses touched. Sansa felt her cheeks blush, she couldn’t help it, even after all this time he still had this reaction on her. He cupped her chin and lifted her head locking their eyes again.

“It’s true sweetling.”

“It’s just that every time I hear someone call me that it feels fake, but with you.” She laid her palm over his cheek. “With you it’s different.”

“Seeing you today at the council and anywhere really,” Petyr smiled shyly remembering something. “It makes me happy.”

“Petyr.” Sansa didn’t know what to say after his sudden confession.

“I know I’m an ass and I’ve made a lot of unforgivable mistakes throughout my life, but what I said back there it’s true. I’ll fight if you’d let me. I’ll fight for you tonight.”

“Petyr you don’t have to fight.”

“I’ll do it, Sansa.”

“Just stay with me.” She pecked his lips, “stay with me and make sure every civilian is safe down in the crypts, please.”

Sansa had always wanted to marry and love a knight since she was little. But the only one who had come to her rescue when she found herself in King’s Landing had been the small mockingbird holding her in his arms. ‘He has killed a king for me.’

Her hand ran down the expanse of his chest rubbing the small patch of hair around his scar. She couldn’t help but appreciate his lean body and how solid he felt beneath her skin unlike what she would have thought at first.

Petyr kissed her again. This is what he wanted he realized. He had spent all his life searching for power and gold, to climb high enough on the ladder of chaos to not be hurt again. Maester’s Tarly words rang through his mind and he hated him because the young man had been right.

“I’ll always stay with you.”

A loud horn sounded on the distance.

The dead had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 4!
> 
> So I guess you'll agree about how awful the war strategy was in the last episode, hopefully, I have added some things that would have made sense during the battle but I don't know, I'm not a war expert. 
> 
> About PxS hehehe I wanted to write fluff today xD I hoped you liked their interactions as much as I did. And Tyrion's lol that was fun to write. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this story.
> 
> -Q 
> 
> Tumblr: @quoyan11


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote the next chapter...

__

 

_‘Stick’em with the pointy end.’_

Arya’s last words to her rang through her mind. Sansa clenched her hold over the dragonglass dagger in her hand. She felt powerless. Everyone was outside fighting and she couldn’t do anything to contribute to the fight.

“Stay down in the crypts, be the strength the people need,” Jon told her as if she had any other choice.

Sansa took a deep breath. ‘I’m the lady of Winterfell.’ With newfound courage, she went down the steep steps toward the crypt’s entrance. Nervous gazes found her as soon as she crossed the door’s arc. Tyrion caught her eye and inclined his head when she walked toward him. The country folk from Winter town watched her cross the room and shared low whispers among them.

The stuffy air gave an added feeling of uneasiness to the grim place. Her ancestors were here, inside those stone graves, it would be a fitting ending if she died here too. Varys and Missandei only acknowledged her with a quick flicker of their eyes but Sansa ignored them.

“Are they here my lady?”

The redhead turned her head in the voice’s direction. Innocent eyes regarded her with determination, the crypts were full of people but a little girl was the only one who dared to know the truth.

“Not yet, but they will be soon.”  Sansa prayed her voice hadn’t trembled as much as she thought it had. “Stay calm and together, we will survive tonight, this I promise you.”

“When can we go out?”

Sansa crouched down until she was face to face with the little girl. A dark patch covered half of her face result of past illness and something constricted inside of the redhead’s chest.

“We’ll go out tomorrow morning, but first we need to be brave.” Dark brown eyes stared at her intently and she recognized the same spirit her sister Arya had when she was her age.

“We need to be brave tonight, are you brave?”

The small girl nodded.

“Good.”

There was a loud sound of a big door closing on the distance. Sansa recognized immediately the newcomer striding toward them.

“Lord Baelish.”

“Is everyone here?”

“We are.” Tyrion Lannister said.

Petyr regarded the small man and nodded. There was a seriousness in his eyes she remembered only seeing after he had thrown Lysa through the moon door.

“We need to block the entrance with the boulders next to the door.”

“But then we won’t be able to get out,” Varys complained.

“And they won’t get in.”

“I’ll help you.” Said a woman standing up. Sansa recognized her and stopped her grabbing the sleeve of her coat.

“Don’t do it, Gilly, you can’t.” Sansa moved her eyes down to the small bump of her belly.

“I brought a cart, it will help us.” Said Petyr directing the volunteers. Sansa squeezed Gilly’s hand and embraced the wilding.

“I can’t do anything.”

“Yes you can, you’re doing it right now,” Sansa whispered in the woman’s ear. She had barely exchanged a few words with the Wildling girl before this day but she knew the high esteem her brother Jon had for Samwell Tarly. If Jon trusted Sam she could trust Gilly.

They separated and Gilly walked back to her seat. Petyr and the others placed the big boulder with a loud thud silencing the murmurs spreading through the crypts, and that’s when reality sank in her.

They were stuck now, for better or for worse.

 

__________________________

 

“We could have gotten out of here.”

They were both sitting together with their backs against one of the Stark’s tombs. A few meters separated them from the rest of the people gathered in the crypts. Tyrion kept giving them intermittent looks while he sipped from his sack of wine.

“What do you mean?”

“I arranged a carriage three days ago for us to get to White Harbor in time before the dead arrived.” Petyr bit his lower lip and averted his gaze. “But it’s too late.”

“You know I’d never have accepted it Petyr.”

“I know but,” The man with ash on his temples took her hand in his tenderly, “you wouldn’t be safe.”

“I’m not safe. No one is safe.” Sansa removed her hand from his. She remembered their conversation when the dragon queen arrived. He had asked her to go away with him, and despite having told him her thoughts, he had been determined to carry his plan out.

_‘That’s because he loves you.’_

Sansa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A soft rustling of clothes and a metallic noise awoke her. Petyr had unsheathed his dagger. The light reflected over the blade shining on the small rubies encrusted on the handle.

“Valyrian steel.”

Petyr nodded and sheathed the dagger.

“Do you know how to use it?”

Petyr smirked. “You’d be surprised of the things I know, sweetling.”

Sansa took out the dagger from beneath her sleeve. “You’re not the only one who knows things.” Petyr let out a soft chuckle. He was dying to kiss her. Here in front of everyone, even in front of her ancestors’ tombs, it didn’t matter. Let Brandon Stark stir in his own grave while he enjoyed the sweet taste of her niece’s lips.

The dead fought against the living upstairs, so maybe he would too.

 

__________________________

 

“At least we’re already in a crypt,” Varys said.

Petyr smirked at hearing the eunuch’s words, ‘always quick with the quips.’

“If we were up there, maybe we could see something.” Tyrion strolled “Something that makes a difference.” Varys huffed.

“What? Remember the battle of the Blackwater?”

Varys shrugged, “you got your face cut in half."

“But I made a difference.” Tyrion inclined his head, “if I was out there right now-”

“You’d die.” Sansa cut. “There’s nothing you could do.”

“You’d be surprised to the lengths I’d go to not join the army of the dead, I can think of no organization best suited to my talents.” The Imp took a long drink from the wine sack and rubbed off the remaining drops of the beverage from his lips with his coat sleeve.

“Witty remarks won’t make a difference. No one here is fighter Tyrion. That’s why we are here and not up there, it’s the truth. That’s the most heroic thing we can do right now is look the truth in the eye.”

Tyrion studied the redhead under the dim light of the torch. He’d found there was a new tinge of harshness in Sansa’s voice every time she spoke. The small girl he had known all those years ago would have never responded to him the way she had.

A small voice inside his head told him it had something to do with the Mockingbird sitting next to her but Tyrion discarded it. The woman in front of him sounded like a true Stark.

“Maybe we should have stayed married.” Petyr’s ears rose.

“You were the best of them,” Sansa confessed. Petyr felt his chest constrict under his robe, flashes of Sansa’s face during their encounter in Molestown passing through his mind. 

“What a terrifying thought.”

The man with ash on his temples rose to his feet putting the excuse he needed to stretch his legs. Tyrion eyed him curiously as he left them, Sansa did too, but her face showed another set of emotions.

“It wouldn’t work between us.” The redhead finally said.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Your allegiance to the dragon queen.”

“She’s your queen too.”

Sansa smirked as if she knew something he didn’t. “Your divided loyalties would become a problem.”

“Yes,” said a light voice coming from the foreign girl sitting a few meters from them. “Without the queen, there wouldn’t be a problem at all. We’d all be dead.” Missandei stood up and left them

__________________________

 

He felt her presence before her touch. Petyr turned back to face the redhead wanting his attention. They both had ended in front of Lyanna’s statue. The man smirked remembering it was the same spot where he had kissed Sansa the last time they were down here in the crypts. It felt too good to be true; he didn’t even know why he had done it. He had already won the girl, but the miscalculation he had made with Ramsay erased his good memories.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Petyr feigned a smile and averted his gaze. Her hand then cupped his cheek and he couldn’t deny her anymore. Her sapphire eyes, deepest as the bottom of the Narrow sea regarded him with worry and Petyr hated himself a bit more.

“I thought you were discussing your marriage with the Imp, so I decide to give you some privacy.”

Sansa raised her brow, “since when do you respect my privacy?” Petyr didn’t respond and lowered her hand from his cheek.

“Are you going to stay married to him?”

“Why are you asking me these questions?” Sansa took a step back, a pang of hurt crossing her face.

“Well, he was keen to remark you are still married and if you look the bigger picture, it would be good for the North to strengthen its connections with a southern house.” Petyr shrugged, “it just makes sense.”

“Fuck allegiances, I’ll never marry again Petyr.” With that Sansa turned around and left him. Petyr wanted to go after her and take back everything he had said. _‘Fuck.’_ Lord Baelish covered his face, he had sounded like an utter idiot. He felt like a stupid teenage boy full of useless jealousy.

Lord Baelish groaned inwardly and followed the redhead. He caught her arm and turned her body around so he could face her. Sansa quickly got rid of his hold as if he had burned her with his touch, “Stop Petyr, I can’t deal with you acting like a spoiled boy right now.”

“Sansa let me explain-”

A scream cut whatever Petyr was about to say. A bony arm appeared through one of the tomb’s side rising the Stark ancestor from their eternal dream. The closest people to said tomb scattered terrified into the deepest part of the crypt.

Petyr scanned the room, his heart beating faster. She took Sansa’s hand and directed the redhead to where Varys and Missandei were hiding. The dead came out of their tombstones and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

_‘It’s true.'_

__________________________

 

The dead seemed to be attracted to the noise. A woman must have been caught by a wight and her screams directed the rest of undead toward her. Petyr didn’t see what happened but the noises of flesh being torn apart were enough.

Suddenly the stone in front of them shuddered. Sansa clenched his arm tightly and his mind went blank. The people gathered around them took a step back but the wall blocked their escape. They were trapped. He saw from the corner of his eye how Sansa raised her dragonglass dagger and he remembered he had one too.

The bony head rose from the tombstone with a loud crack. Everyone held their breath. Inhuman eyes turned his way and darkness greeted him.

The undead body let out a high screech before lunging their direction. Sansa covered him with her body and stabbed the wight in the eye. She felt how its body shivered through the dagger’s handle before stopping forever.

The body collapsed at his feet and he prayed it had caught no other wight’s attention.

Sansa’s arms were around him in a heartbeat and he immediately forgot about what had happened. He turned around and pulled her closer, “are you okay?” He whispered in her ear.

The redhead nodded before letting go, but he didn’t have time to process what had just happened.

Tyrion ran in their direction followed by another wight. As on instinct Petyr grabbed Sansa’s dagger and threw it in the wight’s direction with a flick of his wrist hitting the target. The body fell forward making the small Lannister trip.

“That was close.”

“Shut up and hide,” Sansa told him in a loud whisper. The Lannister nodded in Petyr’s direction before hurrying up and took a sit among the group.

All of Petyr’s senses were on alert. His heart was beating so fast, he swore it could burst from his chest at any moment. They could only wait and pray the morning came soon.

__________________________

 

The moon welcomed them when they emerged from the crypts. Its almost blinding light pierced Petyr’s retina as if pretending to be his solar brother for once. A horrifying scenery expanded throughout Winterfell. The castle had been half demolished during the war against the undead. Corpses covered the entire patio, but they didn’t move.

It had been confusing at first when everything had ended. The wight coming for them had suddenly collapsed to the floor. Warily, Petyr had approached the body and kicked him in the head, but it stayed still.

Varys and Tyrion emerged after him but he wasn’t interested in them. Sansa helped a very pregnant Gilly to climb up the stairs. Petyr crouched and put his shoulder underneath the wilding’s arm for support.

“Thank you.” The girl said before walking away to find the maester.

“We must burn the bodies,” Tyrion told Varys although his words were directed to Petyr and Sansa.

But he couldn’t hear them. Not when he saw  how the feeling of relief that invaded Sansa’s eyes invaded his too. Their bodies found each other in a crushing embrace and he swore he would never let her go again.

“Sansa.” He said in a hoarse voice. The redhead’s body shivered under him, tears staining her eyes.

“Petyr.”

“Sansa I love you.” His words escaped his mouth before he even registered to say them.

Sansa held his face between her hands and kissed him. Petyr forgot how to speak. He reciprocated the kiss pulling her closer. They parted sooner than he would have wished but she stayed between his arms. Petyr closed his eyes and sighed. Sansa tightened their embrace and he couldn’t help but lay a long kiss on her crown.

The long night was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 5!
> 
> What do you think? I think it was clear that the dead would rise from the tombs down the crypts as they did on the show. I hope you liked this last chapter! I certainly had more fun than I thought with it, because I wanted to include somewhere Petyr's ability to throw daggers (like he does in the books) and I thought this was the perfect opportunity. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this story :)
> 
> Tumblr: @quoyan11


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the feast after the great battle arrives...

 

                                                         

 

Everyone gathered outside the castle to bid farewell to the dead. The survivors collected the bodies on to large wooden pyres behind a hill on the outskirts on Winterfell. It took several days to build a worthy setting to cremate the corpses. Half of the Dothraki, most of the Unsullied and thousands of northerners and knights of the Vale had perished on the battle against the dead.

Daenerys Targaryen approached one pyre and bent forward to lay a soft kiss on Ser Jorah’s forehead. Her faithful advisor had fought until his last breath for her. Sansa knew that her father, Lord Eddard, had banished Jorah from the North several years ago, but apart from that bit of information the knight was a stranger for her. However his devotion to the dragon queen was the first thing someone noticed if they paid small attention.

The redhead redirected her gaze to the closest pyre in front of her. The familiar body rested peacefully over the logs of wood, waiting. Reality washed over her and she felt her stomach clench. The war had been real, the dead, blood and smoke, cries of help and pain. Sansa closed her eyes. No, she had to be strong, the worst had passed. She found her strength again and took a step forward to say goodbye one last time to Theon.

Memories of their escape from Ramsay flashed through her mind. Theon was possibly one of the few people who understood the hell she had gone through during her marriage to the Bolton monster.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her eyes watering. “Thank you for everything.”

Her hand went to the hidden pocket in her coat and took out a wolf brooch. The redhead placed it on his coat lapel. He dressed as a Kraken but he had been a wolf since the day Lord Eddard brought him to Winterfell.

But he had come back for her.

The silence continued when Jon gave his speech. The words were supposed to be encouraging and inspiring but she felt nothing. Slowly, her mind drifted away from the present. What would they do now that the dead had been defeated?

Their army had been severely diminished in numbers and hundreds of civilians were slaughtered. The north had suffered more than the rest of the kingdoms of Westeros and it was enough. Winterfell deserved peace.

____________________

 

They didn’t let him sit beside her.

The big hall of Winterfell hosted the celebratory feast after the great war against the death. The morning funeral hadn’t quenched the desire of the Winterfell guests to return to a normal life. The routine seemed like a privilege reserved for only a few these days.

But they didn’t let him sit beside her.

Jon’s watchful eyes observed him every time he looked at his sister’s way. Varys had offered him a seat beside him and Lord Baelish had reluctantly accepted. Sansa had assured him it would be only for tonight, it was in their best interest to maintain the distance between them. Something inside him twisted at hearing her words, and he was sure she ached for him too.

The more the night progressed the more he realized how he didn’t belong. The knights and warriors below him were the same people that jeered and teased him when he was a little boy. He had promised himself he would never be humiliated again, that’s why he put his life on the line in every action he took, bargaining and playing like a fierce gambler. Climbing the ladder.

But not even the most skillful of jugglers can keep so many balls in the air.

Silence fell over the big hall when Daenerys stood up. The dragon queen named the young blacksmith, Gendry Waters, the new Lord of the Stormlands. There was a general cheer through the room and several knights approached to congratulate the new Baratheon lord. The spider beside him let out a long sigh.

“Is there something wrong?” Lord Baelish asked from the corner of his mouth.

“It’s nothing my old friend, the events went better than I expected.”

“So it’s not all ‘Fire and Blood’ is it?” Petyr inquired.

“The boy is a Baratheon by blood, and you know what was old Robert’s opinion about the Targaryens.”

“Luckily our new queen doesn’t share it.”

“So you accept her as your queen. I’m happy to hear that.”

“Well, she is a queen. Anyone who’s been in her presence can see it.” She just not his queen. His queen sat beside her half-brother, sharing a few words with Lord Tyrion, who hadn’t hesitated in taking a seat next to his former wife.

_‘I’ll never marry again.’_

The wine soured on his tongue. The air around him felt stuffier suddenly and he just couldn’t stand it anymore. “Excuse me, my lord.” Lord Baelish stood up and put on his dark cloak.

“Where are you going? The feast is not over.” Lord Varys told him but Baelish ignored him. The lord of Harrenhall dodged a drunk Tormund stumbling through the room toward the main table but it was too late.

“We won little man!” Shouted the wilding before tackling another knight walking pass them.

Petyr took his opportunity and exited the big hall. The cold wind welcomed him and for once he felt grateful for the chill. He never thought could feel like a real home for him. He had always preferred the warm climates like King’s Landing or Dorne. The wet cold from the Fingers always brought him bad memories, memories he wanted to escape.

He pressed his back against a pillar and contemplated how the thick snow fell. Only a few people dared to defy the elements and crossed the deserted patio to find a more private place far away from the hustle and bustle going on inside the castle.

Two young girls approached him inquiring why he was all alone. He was sure that if they had recognized him earlier, they wouldn’t have dared to speak to him in the first place, or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.

“You fought valiantly my lord, I’m sure you need some fun after the battle.” The most daring girl said, a brunette that bit enticingly her lip while she waited for him to take a step forward.

“I prefer being alone right now ladies.”

“Are you sure? You look gloomy my lord,” said the petite blonde moving toward him. She had left her shoulder bare and most of her cleavage could be seen from his position. Petyr smirked thinking about how many times he had seen the same display at his brothels.

It was tempting, to let go and take off all the rage he felt a moment ago. It was just fucking, no feelings or attachments involved. He had seen so many men fell in that hole, and he had taken advantage of it in his brothels. A lot of his whores had tried to persuade him to spend the night with them, searching a special treatment from his employer, or to steal from him. He didn’t know, because the last whore that tried that disappeared hours later and none of the girls from his establishment lifted a finger to know what happened.

A flash of Tully red passed through his mind.

“Ladies, it’s cold out here, go back inside.”

The brunette laid her weight on the same pillar his back was pressed and leaned forward, “we’re strong girls from the north, the cold doesn’t bother us.” She said while her hand brushed his coat.

“Stop.” He commanded catching her hand in the air. The girl startled at the sudden change of tone and retreated. No touching, he drew the line at touching.

“Never do that again.” He threatened, “don’t touch or talk to me, is it clear?”

The girl nodded meekly and tried to get rid of his hold but Petyr clenched her arm. “Do it and you’ll wish the dead had gotten to you sooner.”

The girls left without a word and the face of fear the brunette gave him stayed on his mind. He clenched his fists and let his body sink on the cold stone floor. _‘What’s happening to me?’_

____________________

 

“What are you doing?” The soft voice he had dreamed a thousand times asked. But she was really here, standing before him. The hem of her dress brushed his feet, and the shadows concealed the red he loved.

She offered him her hand, and he took it immediately, the movement brought him closer to her. The glint in her eyes told him it was what she wanted all along and he smiled. Her hand was warm, and he pressed it to his chest.

“Thank you, sweetling.”

“You didn’t answer me, what are you doing outside?” Something shifted on her behavior and he furrowed his eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

Sansa averted her gaze, “it’s nothing.”

“I don’t like big crowds.” Petyr tried to explain.

“Bullshit.”

“Sansa?” The redhead turned around, avoiding his gaze.

“You spent hours in big crowds in King’s Landing, don’t lie to me Petyr.”

“But it’s true. I didn’t want to be inside so I went out here.”

Silence fell between them. Petyr shivered. The snow slipped through the patio halls as if the storm wanted to attend to the feast too.

“What did you say to those girls?”

“What?”

“One of them complained you had hurt her wrist, I heard them.”

“They tried to approach me.” He explained, unsure of how to continue. “They thought I went outside because I was searching for another kind of,” he paused, “company.”

He saw how Sansa fists clenched but she didn’t interrupt him.

“I told them I wasn’t interested,” He took a step closer to her and felt courage when Sansa didn’t run from him. “But despite my insistence one dared to touch my arm, and I stopped her.”

Sansa studied him, deep sapphire eyes fixed on him, expectant.

“That’s what happened.”

Sansa’s hand went to his arm, almost the same way the brunette had done minutes ago. Petyr saw his opportunity and pulled her closer. Her hand was on his chest, and despite the several layers he wore for the cold he was sure she could feel how his heart was about to burst.

“Sansa,” the redhead wrapped her arms around his body and the night cold disappeared. “What’s the matter, sweetling?”

“Daenerys wants to march south as soon as possible. The more time she spends north, the fewer possibilities she has to get the Iron Throne.”

“But the men need rest. Is Jon marching with her?”

“That’s what I said, but Jon is completely in love with her and she won’t listen to me. Is not official but they will say it in the council meeting tomorrow morning.” Petyr felt proud at hearing how his redhead had stood her ground against the Targaryen queen.

“There’s one more thing.”

“What’s wrong sweetling?”

Sansa pulled a little away from their embrace so she could look into his eyes. “They want me to form an alliance with the prince of Dorne but I won’t do it. I can’t believe Jon treats me this way, and Tyrion didn’t even lift a finger when he said it. I’m sure they planned it behind my back.”

“Sssh it’s okay sweetling I’m here,” She embraced him again, Petyr lips laid soft kisses on her crown and whispered sweet nothings. Anger rose from his chest. He needed to fix this. If it weren’t for the redhead in his arms, he would have barged into the great hall and do something stupid like challenging another Stark to a duel or punching Jon Snow’s face. Petyr wasn’t a violent man, but he could change his rules if the situation asked for it.

“I felt so alone Petyr, that’s why I searched for you and when I saw you left something broke inside of me.”

“It’s okay now I’m here, I’m sorry I left Sansa.”

“And then I saw you with those girls and I just couldn’t-” He caught her lips in a searing kiss. Sansa’s body relaxed in his embrace and melted into his kiss. He shouldn’t have left the Great Hall without her. Hell, they shouldn’t have left the Eyrie but here they were. Leaving to Braavos suddenly sounded like the best idea but he knew she would never go with him.

“You’re not marrying to anyone you don’t want again, and if Jon or anyone who disagrees, they can fight me. What? Why are you laughing?”

“You’re not a great fighter,” Sansa said giggling while she wiped a stray tear with the back of her sleeve.

“I can throw knives and that takes a lot of skill.” Sansa shook her head and laid her face on his chest again. The fell into a comfortable silence, both enjoying the warmth the other gave and Petyr imagine how perfect it would be to enjoy this same feeling for the rest of his life.  

_____________________

 

“Where is Lady Sansa?”

“I don’t know your grace, she hasn’t come down from her quarters to have breakfast this morning.” Ser Davos explained, but the young wolf was losing his patience.

Arya saw the thoughts running through her brother’s mind and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do it, she’s had enough already."

“The council meeting is about to begin and she’s not here, what am I supposed to do if she doesn’t fulfill her duties.”

“She has already fulfilled them remember. You left, and she took care of Winterfell.” She accused with a loud whisper.

People slowly entered the room, ready for the meeting to start. Jon knew that they had done the impossible to defeat the dead and that he might ask the impossible of the warriors who survived the fray, but the war wasn’t over. Daenerys wasn’t sitting on the Iron Throne yet.

Jon huffed at Arya’s words. And what about he had done for the North? The lords he commanded praised him for the deeds he had accomplished but they said hurtful words behind his back. He was supposed to be a wolf, but even the fiercest of animals felt unsure when disguised knives surrounded him.

Daenerys entered the room and his world stopped. No, he was sure now. The war wasn’t over and he won’t rest until he sees his queen sitting in the same throne Aegon the Conqueror forged.

But he needed Sansa present in the council.

“We have two options, either you fetch your sister or I will, but she has to be present at this meeting.”

“I won’t go.”

Jon took a deep breath, his fist clenching. Daenerys shot him an inquiring look from the other side of the room, but he ignored it. Arya’s defiant attitude had struck him at first, but now it only felt as if his only family wanted to see him fail.

“I’ll go then,” he announced before barging out of the room.

__________________

 

“And then we’ll eat lemon cakes and lounge on the comfiest sofas contemplating the sun go down in the horizon-” Sansa’s giggles interrupted his reverie.

“You don’t like lemon cakes.”

“I like their taste, especially on your mouth.” He leaned forward, his breath ghosting her lips. Sansa couldn’t refrain and caught his teasing lips in a sweet kiss. Petyr hummed and smiled when he felt her fingers weaving through his hair.

“It sounds perfect,”

“I’ll take you to my villa one day. We’ll escape to Braavos and disappear. Only you and I.” Sansa shook her head, but her dimples couldn’t stop smiling. His lips peppered kisses over her clavicle toward her neck now. She would never tire of the feeling of his body flushed to hers. Not that their lovemaking wasn’t enough, she had been once again surprised of the eagerness and pleasure Lord Baelish could exude in their bed activities.

Sansa had never felt so cherished and it terrified her that all the moments they had shared had been only a dream.

“I don’t want to leave the North.”

“It would be a crime to let you spend the rest of your days rotting in this cold, worn piece of land. It would only be a small vacation. See the world Sansa, even the strongest of winter roses need to see the sun every once in a while.”

Sansa blushed and hid her face on the crook of his neck. Petyr chuckled, it surprised him that after all this time and the praises he shared with her every day, she still dismantled with one compliment.

“I don’t care as long as I’m happy.”

She didn’t know where those words came from but they were true.

“Are you happy now?”

She looked up at him, green warm eyes and ruffled hair. The dim light from the dawn slipped slowly through the curtains but she could see him perfectly. How could she told him that her nightmares had disappeared the first night they slept together. That the first thing she thought every morning was his face.

“I’m happy, you make me happy.”

His arms pulled her closer and Sansa held her breath. The kiss was soft and sweet. It started as a light caress, a teasing that left her wanting more. She huddled closer to him and soon their tongues found the rhythm they knew so well.

Soft moans invaded the room. They took their time savoring each other, showing the words they couldn’t express. Sansa wanted more and Petyr gave it to her, he always did. Their tongues kept dancing, building up their eager desires.

The soft giggles emanating from her made them stop. “What’s so funny?”

“I love your kisses, I could spend the whole day kissing you and wouldn’t get tired.”

“Your sweet lips would parch, my love.” He said before humming into her neck.

“I just want us to have one day only for ourselves, just you and I. No duty, no titles or obligations.”

“Well, you could distract your brother while I steal his dragon and then we fly off far away.”

Sansa patted playfully his chest, “I’m being serious Petyr.”

Petyr groaned and bucked his hips, “I want the same thing, love, believe me,” he thrust up then and Sansa moaned at the feeling of his hard manhood inside her. He started slow, letting her walls envelop him as he pulled out and in again.

“That’s it, my love, let go for me.” His left hand caressed one of her breasts while the other wrapped around her waist holding her in place. Petyr lapped her other nipple, intercalating between long sucks and hot kisses.

“I want more Petyr.” She held tighter to him, bringing him closer until their chests touched, and she could feel the sweet friction sending shivers through her body.

Petyr increased his thrusts. They became deeper and stronger. Her cries made him almost finish right there, it was a dream come true. This goddess beneath him kept calling his name again and again and he couldn’t stop now.

With a pained groaned he rose and grabbed her hips steering her. He aligned himself again and then thrust making the redhead whimper of pleasure. Everything was overwhelming, the feel of her, how tight she was, how delectable she tasted. She assaulted his senses ruthlessly until he became desperate.

His mind went numb then, the climax hit him and he saw white. Her walls clamped around him, milking what was left of him and he moaned into her neck. Sansa’s arms kept him close, her hips slightly moving until he was limp inside her.

She gazed up with hooded eyes and he felt his heart miss a beat. His nose nuzzled hers and then he kissed her. It felt simple after everything they’ve done but it was true. His love for her was the truest thing that had ever happened in his life.

“We should probably wash.” Petyr chuckled before taking himself out of her. He kissed her forehead, breathing her scent one last time and rose from the bed. He took his discarded tunic from the chair and put it on.

“I’ll ask the maid to prepare a nice hot bath for you.”

“Thank you.” She said from the bed, her eyes half closed in pure bliss. “Could we skip the meeting today and stay in bed? I don’t want to be the lady of Winterfell right now.”

“Of course love, but now you have to rest. I’ll come back in no time.”

____________________

 

Loud voices stirred her from sleep. The guards couldn’t stop whoever was outside demanding to enter and the door opened with a loud thud. Petyr jolted beneath her, his arms tightening around her.

“Sansa!” A loud voice called.

Anger coiled in her ribs, she would remind the guards they had only one job and they had failed. She should have accepted Petyr’s men. But now she had to deal with her not so calm half-brother who had entered her quarters uninvited.

“Jon you can’t just barge into my rooms!”

“I am the king and you’re late to the council meeting!”

“That doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want!” Her body rose from the bed. The fur covering her slipped over her skin, slightly baring half of her back.

“Are those scars?” He asked before shooting, a silent Lord Baelish, a murdering look. Sansa could taste the bile rising from her stomach. It wasn’t the best time to show weakness.

“It’s none of your business!” Petyr yelled.

“If you hurt her-”

“What?” Lord Baelish rose from the bed and confronted the bigger Stark. “You came here and invaded Lady Sansa’s privacy when she has expressed several times she doesn’t want you to do it.” The scar cutting Lord Baelish’s upper body surprised Jon, but he didn’t show it. He had heard the former master of coin‘ tale before, but he had never believed it until now.

“Lord Baelish, you will go back to your chambers and pack all your belongings. I banish you from Winterfell.” Jon said in a very calm voice for someone who looked like he wanted to murder the first person who crossed his way.

“You can’t do that!”

“Sansa.”

“No!” She stood up and went beside Petyr, “stop Jon, we won and Winterfell is safe! Isn’t that enough?”

Jon turned around and brought his hands to his head. “Cersei still lives and I won’t rest until I see her head on a spike, you of all people should understand that.”

“You sound like the dragon queen.” She accused.

“It’s your queen too, Sansa-”

“And she can be the queen, I only want to be left alone. I’m not going to the meeting. I don’t want to take part in any more of her plans. Don’t act offended Jon, you haven’t listened to anything I’ve said since you’ve stepped through the Winterfell doors.”

Sansa held her stare and waited, she won’t lose to her brother now, not after the humiliation he had brought upon her barging into her room.

“You need not marry if you don’t want.” She could almost laugh. The redhead took a step forward forcing her half-brother to retreat slowly toward the door.

“It’s more than that Jon. I wouldn’t have married the Dornish prince anyway. My knife would have slit his noble throat before the banquet could begin. I’m not a breeding mare you can just sell for an army dear brother.”

And with that, the redhead closed the big wooden door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 6!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, I have already started to write the next chapter and I have to admit I'm having a lot of fun right now xD. Anyway, I don't know if what happened was something you had in mind or not. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this story :)
> 
> Tumblr: @quoyan11


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They warned me about you Lord Baelish. I had enough time to prove their loyalty, what makes you think I will consider your word instead of theirs.”
> 
> “Because you seek alliances, and I came here offering you one."

 

                                                             

 

The Unsullied guard opened the door and Petyr entered the room. Petyr had never got the chance to be face to face with the Dragon Queen herself. Tyrion and Varys distrusted him, and their actions reflected it, so why would Daenerys accept his offer?

The queen received him sitting down in what had been the lord’s desk in Winterfell. Two guards escorted the queen and her ever-present consort, Missandei.

Lord Baelish gave the white-haired woman a small bow. His heart thundered on his chest, but his face didn’t show it. He couldn’t. “Thank you for receiving me your grace, I’ll try to be brief, I know you have a long journey tomorrow.”

“Lord Baelish, isn’t it? You are lord protector of the Vale and you pledged to the Starks.” The Targaryen girl studied him with curious eyes.

“And in doing it, I pledged myself to your cause, your grace. Lord Royce will march south with the knights of the Vale.”

“You aren’t coming?” She observed.

“I’m not going.”

“Why?”

“I’m staying with Lady Stark in Winterfell.” Daenerys tsked and shook her head.

“Lady Sansa is coming with us.” She stated with a firm tone. Lord Baelish saw how Daenerys demeanor changed, she would dismiss him.

“Forgive me your grace, but I don’t think you’ve been wisely advised about this matter.”

Daenerys raised her eyebrows. “What I discuss with my advisors is my concern, not yours.”

“Advisors who have betrayed the kings they’ve served before.”

“They warned me about you Lord Baelish. I had enough time to prove their loyalty, what makes you think I will consider your word instead of theirs.”

“Because you seek alliances, and I came here offering you one. Lady Sansa won’t marry the Dornish prince, I will.”

“You don’t have an army. The Knights of the Vale are Lord Arryn’s army, not yours.”

“But I hold the largest grain supplies in the seven kingdoms. Ask Lord Royce or the King in the North. The Vale and the North won’t starve like the rest of the continent because of me. You want the common folk on your side your grace, and the common folk is happier with a full belly.”

Daenerys eyes tested him, she was hesitant but Petyr saw how he caught her attention.

“I know what hunger can do to people your grace. I wasn’t always the lord I am today, my family name comes from the smallest of houses. Starvation wasn’t rare where I come from, and neither were illnesses.”

His mind flashed to the day his mother died of a fever. It was strange, he had never recalled that memory in years. The Petyr back then had been an innocent boy crying for losing his mother, and not the ruthless lord he had become.

Daenerys interrupted his reverie, “I know what hunger is Lord Baelish.” Something had changed in her demeanor, her voice sounded almost sweet and understanding. Almost.

“I will remember your offer and I will think about it.”

“Would you allow me to marry Lady Sansa, your grace?” Beating around the bush wouldn’t take him anywhere and the Targaryen girl already knew his intentions. He had stated them since the beginning.

The dragon queen smirked. “Jon doesn’t like you and he is her brother and the King in the North. This matter concerns him.”

“But Jon is not the queen, your grace. That’s why I came here asking you.”

Daenerys smirked. “Curious.”

Petyr furrowed his brows.

Daenerys shook her head, “If I say yes, you go out getting what you wanted but I still don’t get what I want out of this. The pact with Dorne would have made things easier. Lord Varys assured me Lady Sansa was on perfect conditions to carry out my plan, but I guess I must take what I own with ‘Fire and Blood’.”

Petyr clenched his fists. He’ll have a small conversation with the eunuch and his ‘conditions’. Despite the anger coursing through his body Lord Baelish stayed silent, knowing full well that if he said something at the wrong timing his plan will fail.

“I want the north.” The queen said. “If I let you marry Sansa, she will pledge fealty to me.”

“But your grace, the North has already-”

“But she has not.” She cut with a stern voice.

Lord Baelish gave her a small bow. “As you wish your grace.” And with that, she dismissed him.

 

________________________

 

Petyr found Sansa on the Godswood. Soft snow fell from the sky, lying around the Weirdwood’s bloody leaves. She sat with closed eyes beneath the ancestral tree, shielded under the porcelain branches.

Lord Baelish stepped slowly, afraid to break the scene before his eyes. She looked so at peace he chided himself for wanting to interrupt her.

Despite his carefulness, her head raised and saw him. The red of her rosy cheeks deepened and Petyr couldn’t help to smile at her. A tingle inside his stomach began to rise. He didn’t know what it was, but it felt familiar.  An invisible thread pulled him to her and soon he was sitting down beside his lover’s side beneath the ancestral tree.

They stayed silent watching the winter scenery unfold in front of his eyes. Now that he thought about it, there was hardly any noise in the Godswood courtyard. Anything could be happening outside the small forest and they wouldn’t know. Sansa had lost faith in the old gods a long time ago but she once told him she found this place peaceful and somewhere to disconnect as her father did before her.

Petyr tightened his cloak and wrapped his arms around his body. He still hadn’t gotten used to the cold despite spending the last three months helping Sansa rebuild the North.

“You found me,” Sansa said breaking the silence. She wore a heavy furred cloak, similar to her brother’s. Light snowflakes had gathered around the wolf’s pelt and on her auburn hair as if they wanted Sansa to become part of winter too. It only made him want to protect her even more. She had turned him away in this same spot, but Petyr hadn’t stopped fighting for her.

“I-I did.” He said stuttering. “I wanted to see you.” He tried to hide his small mishap but Sansa noticed. She scooted closer to him and offered to share her heavy cloak. He hesitated not wanting Sansa to catch a cold because of him, but he finally accepted and wrapped the fluffy cloak around him. The motion made him be even closer to her, gluing his body to hers.

Sansa giggled at seeing his smug smirk. He kissed her forehead and let her snuggle to his frame. “Better?” She asked.

“So much better.”

Her warmth enveloped him quickly making him hum softly, which caused Sansa to giggled. The agitating thoughts that had invaded him through the day had vanished, scattering through the thin cold air among the white snowflakes. He felt safe.

“I went to see the maester today.”

Petyr rose an eyebrow but Sansa averted her gaze bashfully. She snuggled closer to him, but Petyr didn’t let her hide her face, “what’s wrong my love?” He asked cupping her cheek.

Deep sapphire pools stared at him, full of emotion. Somehow he knew the words were there, floating in the air, but Sansa couldn’t say them. “There’s nothing wrong, I thought it was a passing sickness.”

Her attention focused on his mockingbird pin now, tracing the small figure with her slender fingers. An uncomfortable sensation settled in his stomach. What if there was something wrong? He caught her gloved hand and brought it to his lips. “Sansa, tell me.”

“Do you remember our first kiss?”

Her gaze went to the winter scenery around them. One snowflake that danced through the air settled on her nose, melting quickly on her warm skin. He cupped her chin again, bringing her eyes to him.

“I do. It’s one of my most treasured memories.” He said, sounding more honest than he had intended.

Her eyes lowered, “even despite what happened later?” Remembering how Lysa had caught them and the events that followed their tryst.

“I would do it again Sansa. You looked so cute and flushed like a small bear cub that had to spend too much time playing in the snow. I don’t know why but, the thing I wanted most in the world was to kiss you.” He laid a soft kiss on her crown, inhaling her scent as she huddled closer to him.

“I was so confused… but I liked it.” Petyr chuckled but Sansa continued, “you were so different from what I wanted.” Petyr gulped, feeling a small pang in his chest. Sansa placed her hand over his heart, pulling up the blanket to cover them better in their small refuge. “Your kiss was soft and warm.” Her eyes shined, soft crinkles forming beside them.

“I always thought I’d married a strong valiant knight, a king worthy of my love. I was a fool. My parents didn’t teach me that the world is cruel and full of monsters.” She was looking at him now, eyes wide and with a fleeting glint of anger. But it went away, “I was a fool.”

“I’m sorry.” Sansa shook her head lightly and pulled away from him.

“I couldn’t protect myself then and I couldn’t protect my family.”

“You were a child.”

“And you weren’t.” She accused suddenly.

“It wasn’t that easy and you know it.”

The small space between grew cold. Petyr waited a few moments before approaching again. She didn’t push him away and soon, she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. He pulled her onto his lap, letting her long legs rest over his thighs. His hand rubbed her back in slow motions, up and down, falling into a rhythm, until the redhead broke the silence again.

“I’m with child Petyr.”

His whole body stilled. The rational part of his mind berated his thoughts and told him what he already knew, the changes had developed in front of him. But the other part of his mind shuddered at her words.

Sansa turned in his arms, eyes full of emotion and she cupped his cheek. “Petyr?”

Petyr only looked at her, wanting to pause this moment and keep it forever in his mind. The cold didn’t bother him anymore, only her sweet face mattered. He leaned forward and kissed her, and oh gods she returned it. Their lips danced and Petyr felt a tingle of emotion built in his stomach.

“Petyr?” She asked again when they parted. Petyr sniffed, bringing the back of his sleeves to his eyes.

“I’m fine. I’m just happy.” He explained with a wide grin. Her furrowed eyes faded returning to the warm smile he loved so much. “I just… How do you feel? Are you okay? We should go back inside, you need to stay warm.”

“I’m perfect.” She said snuggling closer to him.

“And do you- do you want it?” Petyr asked hesitantly.

Sansa pulled from him unsure. She did, why would she be telling him about it if she didn’t. But then she remembered the several times she had repeated she would never marry again and how she was done. His doubt on her looked more understandable, but it didn’t excuse him from thinking about what she wanted.

“I do.” She answered softly. “I want you with me.” The word _‘marriage’_ felt fake on her lips, so she didn’t say it.

“Sansa-”

“I want it, Petyr. A month ago I wouldn’t have known but I know it now! Or did you think this wouldn’t happen at the rate we are going.”

Petyr chuckled, and it felt like fresh water to her ears. “You make it sound as if we were rabbits sweetling.”

Sansa giggled, a soft flutter coursing her belly. She interlaced her fingers with his, resting them over her stomach. “After everything Ramsay had done to me I thought I couldn’t…” Her words die unfinished, but he understood perfectly. “It felt like the right thing because that meant that I destroyed everything about him.”

Petyr nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck, the soft fur of the collar grazing his cheek. “He’s gone. He won’t harm you anymore. I won’t allow it.”

“I know.”

“I’m rebuilding Harrenhall as we speak. I gave the order a moon ago. There are several people I trust supervising everything, it will take some time. A year maybe, but Harrenhall will go back to its former glory when I’m done with it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that our child would want for nothing, I’ll make sure, there’s nothing-”

Sansa turned around catching his lips in a fervent kiss. Petyr took a moment to react, having been caught off guard. His hands arrested on her waist when she straddled him. Their mouths kept kissing, heating the surrounding air. His manhood twitched at the sound of Sansa’s soft moan. This woman, the woman of his life, carried his child and something primal unleashed inside of him.

“What got into you?” He asked playfully, but he knew because he felt the same way.

“I enjoy listening to you making plans for this baby.” She kissed him again, prying his lips slowly. He cupped her bum over the thick material of her cloak prolonging their small tryst that he had every intention of resuming later, as soon as they stepped into their quarters.

Gidinnes and happiness invaded him. Every kiss they shared, every touch and sweet word, left him wanting for more. She clouded his mind and then he understood why so many men fell climbing the ladder.

But he couldn’t stop now. He remembered Daenerys’ words demanding North and a small plan began to form in his mind.

He couldn’t lose.

____________________

 

Today was the day Daenerys army marched south to the capital. Lord Baelish waited, escorted by two of his most trusted swords, between the shadows of the big Winterfell patio. The Dothraki and Unsullied had already passed and the Dragon queen left riding on the back of her most trusted beast.

But Petyr didn’t wait for her. His patience was finally rewarded when he glimpsed the distinctive gait of the Spider crossing the patio. He motioned his head and his guards moved from their spot, following the bald man.

It had taken him a while, but the web of spies he had placed in Winterfell was slowly bearing its fruits. He was sure his old friend from the capital, the former Master of Whispers, didn’t have enough time to develop his craft in this place so far north.

Lord Baelish had the advantage now.

Kettleback and Brune had captured his price and brought him to a dark alley away from curious ears. Varys looked confused but a light of understanding covered his face as soon as he stepped into the alley.

“You didn’t say goodbye old friend. I thought our friendship meant something more to you.”

“Lord Baelish,” said the eunuch unfazed, “if I’d known you would react this way I would have. But I don’t see you in the same light as I did before.”

“What a shame. You wound me Varys, you really do.” Petyr unsheathed his dagger. The blade reflected the light giving it an eerie look to it, and he swore he could hear Varys’ heart about to burst from his chest.

“But I don’t care if you hurt me. I’m a good player and I’ve learned how to maneuver your blows, but there’s one thing I won’t tolerate.”

Lothor Brune forced the bald man to kneel and Petyr smirked. How many times did he imagine this moment? There was a time he had considered Varys a friend, someone he could admire even.

“You told Daenerys that a marriage alliance with a southern house would be beneficial for her cause. Our dear king Jon would agree with her, the boy is smitten by her. Arya is out of the question from the start, she’s too unpredictable and wild. So that means that the only high-born lady in Winterfell with whom you’d be able to fulfill the match is none other than Sansa Stark.”

“I didn’t tell her anything, you’re making this up.”

“Right, you suggested Tyrion the idea and he told Jon, who discarded it but you made sure Daenerys found out, anyway.” Lord Baelish brought the blade of the dagger a few inches from the bald man’s neck. The Master of Whispers flinched but Brune’s hold stopped him from escaping.

_‘Power is power.’_

Cersei’s words rang through his mind. He hated to admit it but the lioness had been right. The defenseless man in front of him said that power lived where the men thought it belonged, and Petyr paid his knights well.

“Sansa is mine, and you hurt her. Do you know what I do with people who hurt the ones I love?”

Varys couldn’t answer, his eyes stayed fixed on the threatening blade in front of him. Petyr held his stance, he wanted to see how far the man could take the situation until breaking, but the eunuch didn’t give him signs of defeat.

Images of Sansa crying on his arms flashed through his mind. He hated the game. The bloody game. Petyr bit his lip and kicked the sand beneath him picturing Varys’ stomach instead.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Shut up!” Baelish lunged forward resting the blade beneath Varys’ chin. The metal nicked the flesh leaving a fine blood trail down his neck. “You’re in no position to talk.”

Petyr adjusted his black cloak and told his men to release Varys. The lord fell forward against the floor. It felt strange to see how far they have come, everything they did, all the schemes and plots had to lead them to this point. The difference was that Lord Baelish had moved on. He was aware of the game, he was aware of everything, but his goal looked so much clear now.

“I had your room searched this morning. My men found a bag full of moon tea leaves,” Petyr swallowed hard before continuing. “Did you gave it to her?”

Varys stayed silent. Petyr clenched his fists. “They have a sour taste but it can be easily masked with sugar or lemon. So tell me lord Varys, did you or any of your little birds drop or prepare any beverage with said leaves and gave it to lady Sansa?”

 _‘Perfect condition’_ , that’s what Daenerys had said to him yesterday. He had understood perfectly as soon as he heard those words. Sansa had been brutally abused by Ramsay, but the Bolton hadn’t been able to make her with child. Petyr didn’t know if the Targaryen queen knew about Lord Baelish affair with Sansa, but she at least suspected. Varys had been the first to offer a remedy to assure a healthy alliance for the potential match.

“You’ve already interrogated all the maids that attend the Lady of Winterfell, why are you wasting your time with me?”

Petyr’s eyes steeled. “Tell me what I need and I’ll let you go. Tell me what I want to hear and if something happens to her, your head will be the first to roll.”

“This is ridiculous-” But Brune grabbed the eunuch’s shoulder and pushed him down on the floor again.

“Thank you Lothor.” His trusted guard grunted. Petyr hated to resort to this kind of violence, especially in these circumstances. But he was running out of time.

“I gave nothing to her.”

“But someone else did, Kettleback cut his throat-”

“No! Stop! I told one servant to do it but I don’t know if she did-” Petyr’s fist struck the bald man’s stomach as soon as he heard him confess. The blow made Varys bent forward, gasping for air.

“I should hang you for poisoning attempt against the Lady of Winterfell but I would let you go, consider it a gift for old time’s sake.”

“I didn’t poison her.” He gasped.

“But you would have,” _‘and the child. You would have injured them both.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 7! 
> 
> Phew, a lot of things are going on hehehehe I hope you liked it :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading this story and leaving lovely comments. I appreciate it, it brings a smile to my face. 
> 
> Tumblr: @quoyan11


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again

 

                                              

 

Sansa folded the small scroll in his hand. Tyrion Lannister’s neat calligraphy told how they had sailed safely from White Harbor to King’s Landing. ‘We’ll stop at Dragonstone before attacking the city,’ one part said, and Sansa was glad there was still someone in the army with a minimum of common sense.

“Take care of Winterfell.”

Jon’s words still resonate in her head, but they had changed. It was no longer the northern accent of his half-brother (or well, his cousin?) that she remembered, but that of her father. Ned’s. It had been so long since Sansa had thought of him. Unfortunately, the circumstances that had brought her back to her childhood home were not among the most told in fairy tales.

Sansa lowered her head. It was almost indistinguishable, but it was there. Her hands rested on the small bump of her belly. Morning sickness was almost unbearable. Petyr always tried to make her feel better as much as he could. The corner of Sansa’s lips widened, remembering how as the days passed Petyr showed more of his most loving side. He hated to see her suffer, sometimes he didn’t know if it was her or him who was pregnant.

Her maid knocked on her door announcing she brought warm water for her bath, and to help her get ready for the rest of the day. The reforms in Winterfell had not yet been completed and there was much to be done.

The redhead submerged in the bathtub, enjoying how the water engulfed her body. Lemon and rosemary invaded the room while Sansa allowed herself the privilege of relaxing in the tub for the first time since she arrived Winterfell.  Her mother only let her use soap and enough water for a quick bath, but Petyr enjoyed spoiling her with gifts. How could she say no?

“Are you enjoying your bath, my lady?”

Despite recognizing his voice, the young lady startled. Lord Baelish could be very stealthy if he wanted to.

“I am my lord. Would you like to join me?”

“Nothing would please me more.” With one movement he walked away from the door and began to unbutton his golden robe. Sansa smirked at the sight of all of his body exposed to her.

“See something you like?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Petyr chuckled. Gently,  he introduced his foot in the tub letting out a soft sigh at feeling the warm water. Sansa moved to the side, making room enough for him to sit next to her. Water flooded out of the tub because of their movements, causing the redhead to complain.

“There’s enough water for both of us, don’t be selfish.”

“You’re so clumsy sometimes.” Finally, Sansa settled between his legs, his arm safely placed around her waist. She could feel the smile on his lips when he started peppering her shoulders with kisses. Her long auburn mane was pulled to the side, allowing him to assault her neck sending warm tickles through her body.

“I missed you so much today.”

“It’s not even noon yet Petyr.” She countered laying her body against his solid chest. The warm radiating from him and the water were like a drug. His hands roamed through her body in slow motions, drenching out all of her stress one by one. She hummed into the air and he quickly answered her with a kiss, covering her lips smoothly, barely a caress.

“I don’t care if it’s not even noon. I missed you.” His right hand drifted down her body and stopped over her stomach. “I missed you too.” Sansa gasped at his words but she couldn’t say anything. He swallowed her words again, but rougher this time. He wanted her.

“I love you so much, Sansa.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I love you too.”

His hand drifted down until he reached her curls. The feeling sent a shiver through Sansa’s body. His lips, his touch, his smell, the feel of him was overwhelming. Baelish long deft fingers massaged her nub while he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. Words couldn’t come to her but it didn’t matter, the only word that mattered was his name.

“Petyr.” Sansa squirmed into him, molding their bodies impossibly closer. It took little time for her to reach her peak. Petyr’s words and expert touches could do wonders with her, and he knew it.

He ran his nose along her neck, laying soft kisses over her skin while she recovered. A small smile graced her lips when he whispered how beautiful she looked, spent in his arms. She had never felt more cherished in her life. Petyr’s behavior had changed since she told him about her pregnancy, but this was different. Since Daenerys left, Sansa had taken charge of Winterfell with Petyr’s help. Only the free folk, maester Tarly, Brienne and Jaime Lannister had stayed with them, the rest of the castle went south with Jon, even Bran, and Arya.

Sansa, as Lady of Winterfell, had fallen into her former duty of directing the castle. The free folk was the first one to leave north. The Lannister was the second to abandon Winterfell, leaving a sad Brienne behind. Sansa didn’t know what had happened between the two of them, but the redhead had never seen her trusted guard so devastated and her hate for the Kingslayer only increased.

There was also the additional problem of the increasing amount of refugees seeking shelter within the walls of Winterfell. The winter and the wars between houses had been responsible for the mass flight of hundreds of people, but at the end of the road, only a few made it.

Petyr helped her dry and put on her clothes despite Sansa insisting she could do it herself. he knew she loved it; it was their morning ritual, even though Petyr had not been with her in the morning.

“Where’s my cloak?” Asked Sansa when she saw that the garment was not in its normal place.

“I’ve put it in your wardrobe.”

“Why?”

Lord Baelish approached her with his arms hidden behind his back. “I took your previous cloak as a model, but I made a couple of modifications.” The fur was soft in her hands. The leather bands that closed the cape was the same as her father’s, the same as all the Stark’s cloaks, but apart from the dire wolf in the center of the chest, there was a small silver mockingbird embroidered in the fabric. The dark cloth harbored pale silver flashes as if Petyr had dressed her old cloak like the night’s sky.

“I hope it’s as warm as yours, the last thing I want is for you to catch a cold because of me.” Petyr leaned forward laying a kiss on her forehead.

“Do you like it?” He asked a little unsure.

“I love it.” She said. “It’s beautiful.” Sansa smiled at him and she could see the happiness in his eyes.

“I will wear it today. For you.”

“You honor me, my love.” They were closer now, and Sansa couldn’t refrain to take another step and kissed him. Petyr reciprocated, sharing her fervor. This cloak meant more than a gift, it was a promise he had signed with the sigil of his house.

His kisses, the feeling of his arms holding her, she had used to them by now. She felt safe, the nightmares had disappeared and had become a constant presence she couldn’t let go. The northern lords had surely talked behind their backs about the sudden engagement between Lord Baelish and the Lady of Winterfell, but they didn’t count on the common folk quickly accepting the match. The people of Winterfell knew how much the lord from the Fingers had done for the north since his arrival.

Petyr suddenly kneeled in front of her, his hands quickly settling over her stomach. “Do you feel it?” He asked laying his ear over her belly.

“Only a flutter.” Sansa ran her fingers through his hair mussing it a little.

“I still can’t believe we will be parents.” He confessed and kissed her small bump. Kissing their baby. A wave of emotion rippled through her at the sight of Petyr’s joy.

“You’ll be a great father.”

His green eyes fixed on hers. “No more than you.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I can’t wait to meet him or her. I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, I just want it to be here.”

“Sssssh, we can’t tell until after the wedding.” They needed to keep Winterfell under control first before making the big announcement.

“You’re right.” He agreed. “We still have so many things to do my queen.” Petyr offered her his arm, and she took it, leaning instantly onto his frame. They both crossed the door and walked together to the main hall of the castle.

______________________

 

The eunuch had chosen the furthest solar in the fortress when they arrived Dragonstone. The corridors leading to his chambers were narrow and dark matching the stark and humid aesthetic of the rocky island. It all looked the same to Jon.

Euron had taken him by surprise at sea and they had to withdraw to Dragonstone to again to count the losses and recover. It had been foolish, attacking so soon. Varys and Tyrion advised to stay back and plan thoroughly their siege, but Daenerys didn’t listen, and the fire in her eyes had been enough for him to follow her. He would always follow her.

‘I’m a fool.’

Jon sped up his gait. Two pairs of Unsullied guards waited for him at the end of the corridor in front of the eunuch’s door. Jon clenched his fists, he’d never liked Lord Varys, but he didn’t despise him either. Jon tolerated the man because he knew he was a necessary evil, but that letter. Sansa’s letter said everything he needed to know.

“Open the doors.”

The bald man waited inside sitting under the shadows. He didn’t look surprised, not even when one of the Unsullied guards dragged him out of the room in shackles. This man had betrayed Dany and he would have poisoned Sansa if Lord Baelish hadn’t stopped him before.

“Your grace,” were the last words Jon heard come out of the eunuch’s mouth before he disappeared in the dark cells. The performance of one of Westeros’ greatest actors had ended. Varys knew his curtain call was coming, but he didn’t put up a fight.

“Tell your best men to guard this prisoner until midnight. Don’t let anyone enter or leave, under any circumstances. Do you understand?”

______________________

 

The Umbers, the Karstarks, the Mormonts, the Glovers all of them were gone. The number of extinct houses increased by the day. The ravens kept coming and going to Winterfell telling the present situation across the continent. The south had been devastated by fire and the north by ice, but house Stark would rise stronger than ever. That’s what he promised her. 

Refugees kept coming into Winterfell seeking a haven from the harsh winter. They settled in the outskirts of Wintertown where the Freefolk had lived, fighting the elements protected by only the limited safety of the Winterfell soldiers could offer them.

Part of the Vale army had stayed in the north to help in the reconstruction of Winterfell. The death of Lord Royce and some other Vale lords had been beneficial for Petyr in a way. Fewer people meant that most of the money went to a few fortunate and powerful, and Lord Baelish fitted in both categories. He had no sympathy for the fallen lords. They would have taken him out of his charge sooner than Lord Tyrion gulps a cup of wine.

The Vale, the Riverlands and now the North along Sansa. What would his grandfather say if he could see him now? A lowborn boy, the offspring of a sail sword of Braavos couldn’t be lord of half of Westeros.

But he was, and it felt damn good.

The first answer to the most imminent problem was easy. There weren’t enough houses for everyone so they had to be built. Ravens were sent across Westeros calling for the best architects in Old Town who weren’t afraid enough to make the trip. Workers were paid and soon everything was in motion.

“The next thing would be to make an official census your grace.” Said maester Tarly to Sansa one morning he broke his fast with them. “We can’t help everyone if we don’t know how many resources we need, people keep coming to Winterfell, and they’ll keep coming until spring arrives.”

“We’re battling time maester Tarly, do anything it needs to be done we have the resources.” Said Sansa with a stern voice.

“More soldiers from the Vale will be arriving tomorrow to reinforce the town’s security, I will appoint the new commander of the guard myself.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Brune will supervise everything goes well until they settled. That’s everything for today maester Tarly.”

“Yes my lord,” the young maester bowed, “my lady.”

Petyr allowed himself to let out a long sigh once Tarly crossed the door. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“It did.” She agreed and took another bite from her lemon cake. She closed her eyes enjoying the sweet flavor invading her taste buds. Petyr gulped, in a moment the rest of the world disappeared and he could only see her. No work, no duties, just Sansa and him. Isn’t that what he always wanted?

“What?” Sansa blushed when he caught him staring.

Petyr stood up and offered her his hand. “Come.” They both abandoned the small council room and paced down the corridor leading to their rooms. The sky had cleared for the first time in weeks. Snow still covered the patio and the ice layer beneath made the redhead leaned all her weight on Petyr for support.

“I got you.” He said wrapping his arm over the dark cloak. The garment looked better than he had imagined on her. The soft silver embroideries caught the rogue rays from the sun showing the dire wolf and mockingbirds sewn on the fabric.

Sansa hadn’t told him where they were heading but he could guess from the direction her steps took. A right at the end of the patio, then straight until reaching the forest. It felt as if their life revolved around the Godswood.

“Petyr.”

The man stopped unsure of what to do. The redhead took his arm in hers and kissed him on the cheek. Her playful eyes taunted him. “This way.”

They were back in the castle. They passed a couple of closed doors and took a left turn. The stairs lead them to a large corridor and Petyr could have sworn he had been here before. Suddenly, a door closed in the distance startling him a little.

Sansa giggled at his reaction and Petyr couldn’t stand it anymore. She pulled her closer and kissed her. Her sweet lips smile into his before returning the kiss, sending a shiver through his body. They gave in to each other, not minding if some servant or a clueless lord caught them. Let them know she was his.

“Couldn’t you wait?” She asked when they separated.

Petyr pursed his lips, “where are you taking me?”

“It’s a secret.” And with that, she slipped through his arms. The man tried to catch her, but the redhead was quicker, and soon he followed her walking deeper into the castle. Sansa took a sharp turn at the end of the corridor and Baelish feared he lost track of her, but he instead found a half-opened door inviting him to come in.

______________________

 

“Do you like it?”

The room turned out to be a small library, the kind of nook Petyr would have escaped to read stories away from Edmure’s mockeries. The place he didn’t know he would be drawn to. Just like her.

Her red hair covered her face like two long curtains and continued falling over her shoulder until they ended in a soft curl below her shoulder blades. She had taken off her dark cloak despite the chill inside the room. Petyr smirked amused at the way the cold didn’t seem to bother her as much as him. He took off his cloak as well feeling like it was the right thing to do and joined Sansa.

“I do.” His arms wrapped her body pulling her closer to his. Her small bump was unnoticeable but he could feel it. He could see it, and it filled him with something so primal and curious. He couldn’t turn his back to his feelings anymore, they were together in this and that came with a responsibility. The redhead turned around in his embrace, pressing her forehead to Petyr’s.

“My father used to use this room as a study, but he stopped using it and mother filled it with books. Maester Luwin taught Arya and I history here after the Rob and Jon finished with their classes. Arya always fell asleep and mother would scold her in front of everyone during dinner.” Sansa explained with a nostalgic glint in her eyes.

Petyr cupped her chin making her ice-blue eyes lookup. He wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat. It pained him not to soothe her wounds from the past and to cause some of them. Sansa didn’t accuse him this time, his guilty conscience was playing games with him.

“Come.” Petyr took her to the love seat in front of the fire. Sansa sat down putting her legs over his. The man laid a kiss on her crown and cuddle with her. He could tell she needed a little time to compose and calm the storm in her mind.

“Thank you.” She said after some time. Their eyes met in some hidden understanding. The secret language only lovers share. “I like your new doublet.” Her hand roamed over the maroon fabric. It was an odd color on him but he still looked good. The cocky smile he gave her told her observation pleased him.

“I’m flattered sweetling, I always aim to look elegant every day, but hear it from your lips is more rewarding.” Sansa tsked, but her cheeks blushed in betrayal widening his smirk.

“Don’t look so smug.”

“Why not? The most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms just complimented me.”

“Stop.” She said hiding her face in the crook of his neck. The redhead felt how his warm chuckle rippled through his chest, causing the small vibrations to send a shiver down her spine. Petyr was about to reply something clever when Sansa suddenly kissed him. His touch, his perfume, the touch of mint that his mouth always carried. It all sparked something in her and she was addicted.

It never felt enough.

“What got into you?” He asked amused. Sansa didn’t answer and kissed him again.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to. You look so good.” And with that, she unbuttoned the doublet’s upper part and traveled his collarbone with kisses. Petyr hissed feeling his manhood hardened at Sansa’s attention. He wanted to ravage her, here and now, but then she stopped.

Sansa giggled when she heard the soft groan of protest coming from Petyr. His hands arrested her in place. “Don’t do this to me, my love. Don’t leave me like this.” With that he started bucking his hips slowly, searching the friction he so desperately wanted.

“First, we need a wedding to discuss.”

Petyr groaned and kissed the valley of her breast. “Whatever you want my love, but we could speak this at any other time you know?”

Sansa ran her fingers through his hair feeling how the wetness below spread. This was her fault, she only wanted to tease him a little, to forget about her sudden memories, but it fire backed and she passed the point of no return.

He laid her back over the bed and pulled down her small clothes wanting to feel her. Sansa gasped when his fingers found her center again, her eyes flicked unconsciously to the door and he noticed.

“Don’t worry, it’s closed. His lips were on hers again and she was lost.

______________________

 

They agreed to marry by the old gods in a fortnight. The north needed a distraction from the recent wars and a marriage between the Lord of Harrenhal and the Lady of Winterfell would send a message of unity and strength.

Sansa sent another letter for Jon asking for the independence of the North. She hadn’t received news from the last one, and it worried her. Despite everything, he was still Jon and she loved him like any of her brothers, but he participated in a war she didn’t want to take part in.

“I don’t like Daenerys.” She whispered late that night. “What would happen if she wins?”

“She’s a Targaryen. She would take everything.”

Sansa pursed her lips. ‘But she’s not the real heir of the throne,’ she wanted to say, but did it really mattered with a dragon by her side?

“I don’t want to be ruled again. These are my people, no Lannister, Baratheon or Targaryen have the right to take it away.”

“And you do?” Sansa frowned separating from his embrace.

“What do you mean? The Starks reigned the north for generations and I’m a Stark.”

Petyr let out a sigh bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “What I’m saying is that your ancestors were stronger and had more money than the people they lived with, that’s why they became the kings of the north. That’s how they became royalty. But hundreds of years later Aegon the conqueror came and puff.” Petyr snapped his fingers. “No more kings.”

He turned to her cupping her cheek, “what I’m trying to say it’s that yes, you have the North, you have the money, the power and the love of your people, but luck is fickle and we may need to prepare for the worst.”

Sansa stayed silent for a time studying his eyes. She agreed with some of his words but she couldn’t conceive Daenerys as her queen. It’s not that she wouldn’t be willing to negotiate with her when the time comes, but her instinct told her there was something wrong with her. She triggered the same alarm that Joffrey did back in King’s Landing or Ramsay the first time she met him.

“Do you want her as the queen?” She asked harshly. Sansa scolded herself for showing some of her anger toward the Targaryen, but it irked her that Petyr would share any slight of sympathy for her. Not Petyr, not her Petyr.

“I don’t, but I would accept her if your life’s on the line. Or his.” He confessed laying his palm on her stomach. Sansa shook her head.

“Stop. That will not happen.”

“Ssssh.” He cooed pulling her closer. “It won’t, I promise you but I want to be prepared for everything.”

“Then be prepared!” She demanded between sobs. Petyr kept rocking her lightly, whispering promises to her ear. Promises of spring and lemon cakes. Promises of them together with their child growing happy. Promises of ending the dragon queen when the time came.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is chapter 8!
> 
> I know it's been a while and I wanted to apologize, life got in the way. But the next chapter is here finally and I can't wait to hear your thoughts, any kind of feedback it's appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this story after all this time
> 
> -Q

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @quoyan11


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